The Night I Finally Woke Up: How I Discovered the Truth About My Much-Younger Husband

One evening, Ethan told me he planned to stay up late. “I’m making a special herbal dessert for the yoga team,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Go to bed, baby. I’ll be up soon.”

I nodded, changed into my nightgown, and pretended to sleep. But something in me—some old teacher’s instinct—wouldn’t rest.

I slipped quietly down the hallway and peeked into the kitchen.

Ethan stood by the counter, humming softly. My glass—the one he always used for my bedtime tea—was on the counter. I watched as he poured in warm water, added honey and chamomile… and then, from a small amber bottle, counted three clear drops into the mix.

One. Two. Three.

Then he stirred, smiling to himself, and carried the glass upstairs.

The Test

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