After 31 Years of Marriage, I Discovered a Key to a Storage Unit with Its Number in My Husband’s Old Wallet – I Went There Without Telling Him

I sat beside his bed, listening to the steady rhythm of the monitor.

He looked fragile somehow, pale against the hospital sheets, his wedding band still resting on his finger.

“You scared me,” I whispered, even though he couldn’t hear.

Eventually, a nurse suggested I go home to gather essentials — clothes, toiletries, a charger. He would likely be there for days.

I nodded because speaking felt impossible.

My car was in the shop, so I needed his.

But when I returned home, the house felt unfamiliar, almost watchful.

His keys were nowhere to be found — not on the counter, not by the door, not in his jacket.