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

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.

He looked at me, irritated. “Why do you always have to ask about it? I just… I can’t do it faster, okay?”

“Do what faster?” I asked, baffled.

“Just leave it alone, Naomi,” he snapped, storming back into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

I tried to let it go, but every night, as I lay in bed listening to those strange noises coming from the bathroom, I felt my imagination running wild. Was he hiding something? Was he in trouble?

The thought of him keeping secrets from me, after all these years, made my stomach churn. I considered every possibility, even the worst ones: was he seeing someone else?

Then, everything changed one afternoon. Liam had locked himself in the bathroom again, and I was in the kitchen when his phone buzzed on the counter.

I glanced at it absentmindedly, expecting some work message or a news alert. But no: it was his mom, Meredith, calling.

“Liam, your mom’s calling!” I called out, tapping on the countertop impatiently.

There was a grunt from the bathroom. “Can you get it? I’m busy!” His voice was muffled, strained.

I hesitated for a moment, then picked up the phone. “Hello, Meredith,” I said, trying to keep the conversation short. After a quick exchange about her upcoming doctor’s appointment, we hung up.

But just as I went to lock the phone, something caught my eye — an open video on the screen. The thumbnail showed it was recorded just an hour ago.

My heart raced. Before I could stop myself, I clicked play. And as the video started, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

There was Liam in the bathroom, wearing workout clothes, of all things… exercising? He was in the middle of doing push-ups, sweat dripping down his face, groaning with each rep.

Then he switched to sit-ups, breathing heavily, pushing himself like I’d never seen him do before.

My first reaction was relief. So that’s what had been going on in there? My imagination had gone to the darkest places, and here he was… doing some awkward yoga poses. I actually chuckled, a combination of amusement and disbelief bubbling up.

I marched down the hall, heart still racing, and knocked on the bathroom door, harder this time. “Liam! Open the door. We need to talk.”

There was silence on the other side, and I could almost feel his hesitation through the thick wood. “I’m, uh, kinda busy right now,” he finally muttered, his voice breathless.

I wasn’t having it. “Liam. Open. The. Door.”

I heard him shuffle around, and after a beat, the lock clicked. The door creaked open slowly, revealing my husband, flushed, sweaty, and holding a bright green resistance band in one hand. He stared at me, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“You saw the video, didn’t you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. His shoulders slumped as he looked down at the floor.

I crossed my arms, trying to keep my voice calm. “Yeah, I saw it. What on earth is going on?”

Liam sighed deeply, running a hand through his damp hair. “I… I’ve put on weight,” he admitted, his voice heavy with embarrassment. “Nine kilos in the last few months, and I—I felt so ashamed. I thought you might… you know, notice.”

“Notice what? That you gained a bit of weight? Liam, everyone puts on weight now and then. What does that have to do with locking yourself in the bathroom for hours?” I asked, genuinely confused but feeling a bit of my frustration melt away.

He groaned, rubbing his forehead like a child caught sneaking cookies before dinner. “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he mumbled. “So I started working out… in secret. I hired this online coach and started doing these bathroom workouts so you wouldn’t… notice how out of shape I’d gotten.”

I blinked, processing his words. “Wait. All this time, you were in here… working out? Not hiding something from me? Not cheating or… God knows what else I thought?” I could feel a mixture of exasperation and relief washing over me.

He nodded, still not meeting my eyes. “I didn’t want you to hear me struggling. It’s embarrassing, okay? I’d be grunting and breathing heavily, and I figured if you knew, you’d worry… or worse, think less of me.”

I stared at him, then burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. The sheer absurdity of it all: the hours spent worrying, the secretive looks, the locked doors; all because he was too shy to admit he was working out.

“Liam, you absolute idiot!” I laughed, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. “You could’ve just told me. You know I’d support you no matter what!”

Liam looked up at me, a sheepish smile starting to break through his embarrassment. “I didn’t want to worry you. I know how much you’ve been dealing with lately: work, my mom’s health, everything. I didn’t want to add to that.”

I shook my head, the last bit of tension fading as I took a step toward him. “Worry me? Liam, you DID worry me. You were acting so strange. My imagination was running wild! I thought you were keeping something serious from me…”

He winced, clearly feeling guilty. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just — I’ve been feeling bad about myself. And I didn’t want to burden you with that.”

I softened, reaching out to touch his arm. “Liam, we’ve been married 25 years. You don’t have to hide anything from me, especially not this.” I paused, trying to read his face.

“You’re still the same man I married, whether you’ve put on a few kilos or not. Besides, it’s not like I’ve stayed the same size either,” I added with a smirk, patting my belly for emphasis.

Liam finally cracked a real smile. “I guess I’ve been a bit ridiculous, huh?”

“Just a little,” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “Next time, instead of locking yourself away, how about we go on a run together? Or, I don’t know, maybe let me in on your secret workout routine?”

He chuckled, the tension fully broken now. “You and me? Doing yoga together?” he joked, his eyes twinkling for the first time in weeks.

“Why not? I could use a little stretching,” I said with a grin, then sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster of the last few weeks. “But seriously, Liam, no more secrets. Please. You can tell me anything, even if it’s about something like this.”

Liam nodded, looking down at his feet before glancing back up at me. “I will. I promise.”

We stood there for a moment, the air between us lighter now, as if a weight had been lifted. I hadn’t realized how much this situation had weighed on me until it was gone.

Finally, I smiled, shaking my head at him again. “All this time, and it was just you doing push-ups in here?”

Liam laughed, tossing the resistance band aside. “Yeah, and pretty badly, too.”

We both laughed, the sound filling the small bathroom. It was ridiculous, yes, but also a reminder. Sometimes, the things we’re most afraid to admit — the things we think will push people away — are the very things that make us closer.

I squeezed his hand and said softly, “Next time, just let me in, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered, pulling me into a hug.

And in that moment, it was like everything fell back into place.

Ready to dive into another heartwarming story? You’re going to love this one: When Michael returned home early from a business trip, he expected a warm family reunion, not an empty house and eerie silence. His wife was missing, only to be found locked in the cellar, with a shocking story that pointed to a betrayal he never saw coming.

You can read the whole story by clicking here.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.