A few weeks ago, I noticed long hairs in our shower—strange because my husband and I both have short hair. I initially dismissed it, but the hairs kept appearing, mostly when I was out. When I asked my husband, he brushed it off, which made me more suspicious.

Fearing he might be cheating, I decided against installing a camera to respect his privacy. Instead, I left work early one day to investigate. Coming home, I noticed unfamiliar men’s shoes in the hallway. Before I could react, my husband appeared, clearly surprised.

He confessed that during lockdown, his long-haired friend Dave, who’d lost his job and home, had been discreetly using our bathroom to prepare for job interviews. My husband hadn’t told me, fearing I wouldn’t approve, and Dave felt too embarrassed to let others know.

I met Dave, who was kind and down on his luck. I reassured my husband he should’ve been honest, as I’d have understood. To help, I even suggested Dave stay with us temporarily.

While my imagination ran wild, the truth was far less dramatic. No cheating, no stranger in the walls—just a friend in need.