My Husband Has Been Sleeping in His Mother’s Room for Three Years
For Three Years, My Husband Has Been Sleeping in His Mother’s Room Every Midnight — When I Secretly Followed Him, I Fell to My Knees in Tears After Discovering the Sacrifice He Had Been Hiding from Me
Anna and Marco had been married for three years.
To everyone else, they seemed like the perfect couple. Marco was kind, hardworking, and loving. But there was one thing that deeply troubled Anna — a “strange” habit her husband had.
Every night, around midnight or one in the morning, Marco would slowly rise from bed. He would gently remove Anna’s arms from around him, leave their room, and walk into the bedroom of his mother, Corazon, who lived with them. He would not return until morning.
During the first year, Anna tried to understand.
Marco explained,
“Mom has insomnia. She just needs someone to talk to.”
By the second year, Anna began to feel uneasy.
Was Marco too much of a mama’s boy?
Too emotionally attached to his mother?
By the third year, Anna was filled with jealousy and doubt.
She felt like her husband loved his mother more than her.
Like she was competing for his attention.
One night, she confronted him.
“Marco, why do you always sleep in her room?”
“I’m your wife! You should be beside me! What are you doing in there? Talking all night?”
Marco looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.
“Anna, please try to understand,” he said quietly.
“Mom is sick. She needs me.”
“Sick? She looks fine every morning! She watches TV, she eats normally! Maybe that’s just your excuse because you don’t want to sleep beside me!”
Marco said nothing. He only lowered his head and left the room.
That night, Anna decided to find out the truth.
At midnight, as usual, Marco slowly got out of bed.
He thought Anna was asleep.
But in the darkness, her eyes were wide open.
Marco left the room.
Anna waited five minutes, then followed him barefoot so he wouldn’t hear her.
She stopped outside Corazon’s bedroom door.
It was slightly open.
Anna was ready to get angry.
Ready to confront them both.
But what she saw inside stopped her heart.
The room was dim, lit only by a small lamp.
Corazon — who looked calm and normal during the day — had her hands gently tied to the sides of the bed with soft cloth. She was thrashing in panic. Her eyes were wide with terror, her body drenched in sweat, foam gathering at her mouth.
“Demons! Stay away from me! Don’t kill my son!” she cried weakly, her voice hoarse.
Marco was holding his mother tightly to keep her from hurting herself.
His arms were covered with bite marks, scratches, and bruises.
“Shhh… Mom, I’m here. It’s Marco. You’re safe,” he whispered while gently rubbing her back.
“No! You’re not Marco! Marco is dead! You killed him!” Corazon screamed, then bit hard into Marco’s shoulder.
Marco winced in pain — but he did not let go.
He did not get angry.
Anna saw tears streaming down Marco’s face as he endured the pain from his own mother.
A moment later, Corazon vomited onto Marco’s clothes. The sour smell reached Anna even from the doorway. But instead of reacting with disgust, Marco calmly took a cloth, wiped his mother’s face, then cleaned himself. He gently changed her diaper — she had soiled herself.
Anna’s legs went weak. She had to hold onto the doorframe.
After nearly an hour, Corazon finally calmed down. She entered a brief lucid moment.
“M-Marco?” she whispered.
“Yes, Mom. I’m here.”
She touched his face, seeing his wounds.
“Did I hurt you again? I’m so sorry… Please forgive me…” she cried.
“Go back to Anna. Your wife is suffering because of me.”
Marco shook his head while fixing her blanket.
“No, Mom. I’ll stay here. I don’t want Anna to see you like this. I don’t want her to be afraid. I don’t want her to suffer cleaning up after this. I’m your son. This is my responsibility. Let her sleep peacefully.”
“But you’re exhausted…”
“I can handle it, Mom. I love you both. I’ll protect you both. Her in the daytime. You at night.”
That was when Anna broke.
She opened the door and stepped inside.
“Anna?” Marco gasped, quickly trying to cover the stains on his clothes.
“Why are you here? Go back to bed… it smells bad here…”
Anna didn’t speak.
She walked to him, fell to her knees, wrapped her arms around his waist, and sobbed.
“I’m so sorry,” she cried.
“I thought the worst of you… when all this time, you were carrying everything alone…”
She turned to Corazon, who now looked at her with shame.
“Mom…” Anna said gently, taking her hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me? You have sundown syndrome and dementia, don’t you?”
“We didn’t want to burden you,” Corazon said softly.
“We know you’re busy with work. We didn’t want to be a weight on your life.”
“You’re not a burden,” Anna said firmly.
She stood, fetched warm water and a cloth, and personally cleaned the remaining dirt from Marco’s arms and Corazon’s face.
“Marco,” she said while tending to him,
“You’ve carried this alone for three years. From now on, there are two of us. I’m your wife. For better or worse. That includes caring for your mother.”
“But Anna—”
“No more ‘but.’ We’ll take turns. Or we’ll hire a nurse. But you will never carry this alone again.”
Marco embraced her.
For the first time in three years, he felt true relief. The weight he had carried alone finally felt lighter — because he now had a partner.
From that day on, Corazon’s condition was no longer a secret.
They faced everything together.
And Anna realized that love is not measured only by sweet moments and dates — but by the willingness to stay, to endure, and to stand beside someone in the darkest, most difficult, and even messiest parts of life.
The jealousy disappeared.
What remained was respect…
And a deeper love for a man willing to sacrifice sleep, endure pain, and suffer in silence just to protect the women he loved.