Every night, my husband left our bed at the same time and came back looking more worn down than before, and after a while I stopped believing his excuses. So one night, I followed him. I’m 51.
Mom of four. My oldest is in college, my youngest is fourteen, and the house still runs on the same two people it always has. Me and Mark.
My mother lives with us too. She has advanced multiple sclerosis. She’s bedridden now.
There are medications, lifts, therapy appointments, home nursing visits, supply deliveries, and bills that arrive faster than I can open them. That’s our life. Mark has been my husband for 26 years.
Through layoffs, braces, two broken water heaters, and four kids who somehow all needed money at once, he was always the steady one. That’s why I noticed when he stopped feeling steady. At first, I told myself it was stress.
My mother’s debt had gotten so bad I stopped saying the number out loud. If I said it, it became real in a way I could not manage. Then the night wandering started.
The first time, I woke up around two and found his side of the bed empty. I heard the front door click shut. When he came back, I said, “Where were you?”
He blinked at me like I had pulled him out of a dream.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe I was sleepwalking.”
It was such a stupid answer; I should have pushed harder right then. I didn’t.
What happened next changed everything…
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