I married a man in a wheelchair – A week after the wedding, what I saw in our bedroom left me speechless

Then I heard a dull, heavy noise at the end of the corridor. And a dragging sound.

Then another muffled sound, clearer this time, followed by rapid breathing, as if someone were running a marathon on the spot.

My skin prickled.

"Rowan?" I called, my heart in my throat. "Darling?"

Silence.

I heard a muffled noise at the end of the corridor.

I crawled over, forgetting my shopping. "Rowan, are you alright?"

There was a pause. Then, from behind the bedroom door: "I'm fine, Mik. Don't come in."

The door was locked.

I kept knocking. "Rowan, open up, please. You look hurt."

He answered, but his words were broken and breathless. "Just, just one minute, baby. I said I'm fine."

I pressed my forehead against the door, trying to listen. I could hear him fumbling, dragging his feet, and muttering under his breath.

"Rowan, please open the door. You look hurt."

"Rowan, I'm serious. I'm coming in," I announced, searching for the emergency key in the entryway drawer. My hands groped as I unlocked the door.

At that moment, I heard the front door open, with Mom's heels clicking on the tiles.

"Mikayla? I brought the ziti! Is Rowan... wait, what's going on?"

I didn't answer. I opened the bedroom door. Mom followed, a casserole dish in her hand, her eyes wide.

What I saw made my knees buckle.

I heard the front door open.

***

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