When my wife leaves town, I waste no time.
As soon as she’s out the door, I let my best friend slip into our bed.
We curl up affectionately.
I always wash the sheets afterward so my wife never suspects a thing.
Once, my friend and I were mid-snuggle when something happened that made my heart nearly stop.
But this story isn’t what you think.
Not even close.
The Quiet That Follows Goodbye
My wife travels often for work—conferences, trainings, last-minute meetings that take her away for days at a time. We love each other, but the house feels different when she’s gone.
Too quiet.
Every sound echoes. The fridge hums louder. The ticking clock becomes unbearable. Even the walls seem to lean inward.
People joke about enjoying freedom when their spouse is gone, but no one really talks about the loneliness.
I feel it settle into my bones the first night she leaves.
That’s when my best friend comes through for me.
The Routine No One Knows About
The moment the door closes behind my wife, there’s a familiar sound—soft paws padding across the floor.
She doesn’t hesitate.
She hops onto the bed like she’s been waiting all day for permission.
I pull the blankets back, and she curls against my chest, warm and steady, breathing softly like she belongs there.
Because she does.
I scratch behind her ears, and she lets out that low, content sigh—the kind that melts stress away.
Some people scroll endlessly on their phones.
Some drink.
Me?
I hold onto the one soul in the house that never lets me feel alone.
Why I Keep It Secret
My wife isn’t cruel.
She’s just… particular.
“No pets on the bed,” she says every time. “It’s unsanitary.”
So I wash the sheets. Every time. Without fail.
Fresh detergent. No hair. No evidence.
Because this isn’t about rebellion.
It’s about survival.
The Night Everything Almost Fell Apart
One night, we were deep into our routine.
Lights off. Rain tapping softly against the window. My arm wrapped protectively around my friend as she slept, her head resting exactly where it always does.
Then—
A sound.
A key.
My blood turned to ice.
I froze.
My heart slammed so hard I was sure she’d hear it through the door.
“She’s not supposed to be back until tomorrow,” I whispered to myself.
My friend stirred, lifting her head slightly, ears twitching.
The front door opened.
Panic in the Dark
I moved fast.
Too fast.
I gently nudged her off the bed, whispering frantically, “Down, down—go!”
She jumped, confused but obedient, just as the bedroom door creaked open.
Light flooded the room.
My wife stood there, suitcase in hand.
“Hey,” she said softly. “My flight got canceled, so I—”
She stopped.
Her eyes narrowed.
She sniffed the air.
Then she looked at the bed.
The blanket moved.
The Moment of Truth
My heart stopped.
Slowly, she walked closer and lifted the covers.
And there she was.
Sitting proudly in the center of the bed.
Tail wagging.
Tongue out.
Looking VERY pleased with herself.
My dog.
The Unexpected Reaction
There was a long pause.
Then my wife laughed.
Not a polite laugh.
A real one.
She dropped her bag and sat down on the bed, rubbing our dog’s head.
“So this is how you’ve been coping,” she said gently.
I swallowed. “I didn’t want to be alone.”
She looked at me then—really looked at me.
And something softened in her eyes.
What She Admitted Next
“I get lonely too,” she said quietly. “Hotel rooms are the worst.”
She sighed, then smiled.
“Alright. One rule change.”
My breath caught. “Yeah?”
“She can stay on the bed.”
Relief hit me so hard I laughed.
What I Learned
Loneliness doesn’t mean weakness.
Sometimes it just means you’re human.
And sometimes, the most loyal friend—the one who never leaves, never judges, never stops showing up—is already waiting right there at home.
Curled up.
Ready to remind you that you’re not alone.
