Curiosity got the best of me as I tiptoed into the house, heart pounding. I heard hushed voices from the living room and peeked in to see my husband slouched on the couch, his face buried in his hands like he was “auditioning for a melodramatic soap opera.”

I softly asked, “What’s wrong?” My husband and his parents turned to me, startled. His eyes, red and tear-streaked, met mine. “It’s nothing, sweetheart,” he mumbled, unconvincingly. But I pressed on, sensing the tension. “Please, tell me.”

After a long pause, he finally confessed, “I can’t keep pretending everything is okay… I feel overwhelmed, like I’m drowning in responsibilities.” His words hit me like a ton of bricks, and tears welled up in my eyes. I hugged him tightly, whispering, “I had no idea you were feeling this way.”

His face burrowed into my shoulder, and he apologized, “I didn’t mean to worry you.” But his apology only deepened my concern. “You don’t have to apologize,” I reassured him, “We’ll get through this together.”

In that moment of raw honesty, I realized that love endures the storms, not just the good times. Holding onto each other, we knew we would face whatever came our way, side by side, with love as our guiding light.