I Couldn’t Get Why My Husband Spends So Much Time in the Bathroom Until I Saw a Video in His Phone

When I knocked on the bathroom door and heard my husband’s strained voice, I knew something wasn’t right. But nothing could have prepared me for the real reason he’d been hiding behind that locked door for months.

I’ve always considered myself lucky. Liam and I have been married for 25 years, and for the most part, life has been… comfortable. We had our ups and downs, like any couple, but we were solid.

At least, that’s what I used to think. Lately, things have felt different. Not the obvious kind of different: no big fights or dramatic shifts, but small changes, the kind that make you second-guess your own instincts.

The strangest of all? Liam’s sudden obsession with the bathroom.

Liam’s never been the type to spend much time in there. If anything, I’ve always teased him for how quickly he could be in and out, joking that he was some kind of efficiency expert. But about six months ago, he started taking his time. Really taking his time.

It wasn’t just a few extra minutes; he’d disappear for hours. At first, I shrugged it off. “Maybe he’s just getting older,” I told myself. Everyone deserves a bit of alone time. I didn’t want to be one of those wives, nagging over every little thing.

But then the noises started.

One night, as I was folding laundry on the bed, I heard a dull thud. I paused, listening carefully. There it was again: this time, a low grunt, followed by what sounded like heavy breathing.

I stood up, hesitating in the hallway before knocking softly. “Liam?” I called through the door, trying to keep my tone casual. “Everything alright in there?”

There was a pause. “Yeah, just… taking my time,” he replied, his voice slightly strained.

I frowned but didn’t push further. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well? But days turned into weeks, and his bathroom sessions grew longer. He’d spend more time behind that locked door, and with each passing day, I found myself growing more and more uneasy.

It wasn’t just the time that bothered me; it was the secrecy. He had started locking the door every time, something he never used to do. When I casually asked him about it one morning over coffee, he shrugged it off with a nonchalant, “Can’t a guy have some privacy?”

I tried not to let it get to me, but curiosity gnawed at me, especially with the strange sounds. “Privacy for what exactly?” I muttered under my breath one night. That’s when I started to worry something more was going on.

One evening, after yet another long, locked bathroom session, I couldn’t help myself anymore. “Liam, why are you always in there for so long?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.