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

The leather was softened by time, edges worn smooth. I didn’t recognize it. That alone made my pulse quicken.

There was no cash inside.

Only keys.

Several of them.

And one that didn’t belong.

It had a plastic tag from a nearby storage facility, a unit number scrawled across it in black marker.

My stomach clenched so sharply it left me dizzy.

In thirty-one years of marriage, Mark had never mentioned a storage unit.

We shared everything — or so I believed. Bills. Appointments. Even his nightmares when he woke in a sweat.

I took the spare car key.

I hesitated.