Edward sat on the old wooden bench, his hands resting on his knees as he stared ahead, not really looking at the altar. His daughter, Lilly, sat beside him, unusually quiet, holding onto his sleeve. The Sunday morning sunlight came through the stained glass windows, spreading soft red and blue patterns across the church. But even the beauty of the place didn’t ease the heavy feeling in Edward’s chest. The quiet sounds of people talking echoed through the large space as the churchgoers slowly began to leave after the service.

He sighed and looked down at Lilly, who looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. She didn’t ask why her mother wasn’t with them—maybe because it wasn’t the first time. Edward had stopped trying to explain it to her, mostly because he didn’t really understand it himself.

Father George walked over, his face showing the quiet worry of someone who had seen people struggling many times before. “Edward,” he said gently, offering a small, warm smile. “Lilly.” He bent down slightly to smile at Lilly before looking at Edward.

Edward gave a weak smile and shook the priest’s hand. “Morning, Father,” he said softly.

Father George looked around, then asked, “Where’s Emily? Didn’t she come today?”

Edward’s smile faded, his face tightening. “She’s fine,” he said quickly. “She stayed home again.”

The priest noticed the pause—the way Edward’s shoulders seemed heavier, weighed down by something. “Is everything okay, Edward?” Father George asked quietly, sitting beside him. His voice was soft and kind, like he didn’t want to push but couldn’t ignore it either.

Edward stared ahead, then ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Father,” he said in a low voice. “She’s been… different. Distant. It feels like she’s shutting me out, and I don’t know why.” He looked at Lilly to make sure she wasn’t listening. “I’ve tried talking to her, but she just… won’t let me in.”

Father George nodded, listening closely. He placed a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “These things aren’t easy,” he said kindly. “Sometimes when someone’s going through a hard time, they don’t know how to talk about it. But she’ll need you, even if she doesn’t say it. Keep trying.”

Edward swallowed hard. “I don’t know if she even wants me around anymore.”

The priest paused, thinking about the last few times he had seen Emily. There was something strange in her—something heavy he couldn’t explain. He didn’t want to say it out loud. Not yet. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it stayed in his mind. “She does, Edward,” Father George said, even if he wasn’t sure. “Believe that. Be patient. She’s lucky to have you.”

Edward looked at him, his eyes full of hope and doubt. “Thanks, Father. I’ll try.”

As Father George stood to leave, a tight feeling grew in his stomach. He had seen enough to know something was wrong with Emily—he just didn’t know what.

A few days passed, and Emily seemed like a shadow of herself. At night, she stayed up reading her father’s diary, her face looking more tired and thinner every day. Dark circles grew under her eyes, and her skin turned pale from not sleeping.

One evening, she came across a very disturbing diary entry:

“She wrote something on the wall in red, the color and smell like fresh blood. I found a dead cat in the backyard soon after. I’m starting to fear for our sanity, for our very souls.”

Emily shivered. She remembered this event from childhood. She was just a little girl when she saw it. Her hands trembled as she closed the diary, the weight of her father’s words pressing on her.

The next morning, even though she felt completely drained, Emily forced herself to do all the housework. The day passed in a blur—cleaning the house, washing clothes, doing the dishes, cooking, moving and opening boxes. Finally, she sat on the couch, lost in her thoughts.

Edward came over, saying work had been exhausting. He noticed that Emily seemed far away. He called her name softly at first—“Emily, Emily”—then louder, “EMILY!”

She jumped, scared and shaking.

“Why are you shouting?” she asked, her voice full of fear.

“Emily, what’s going on with you? You seem lost in your own world. Please tell me.”

Emily turned her head away, tears in her eyes. “It’s nothing, Edward. Just a lot on my mind.”

Edward frowned. “You can’t hide this from me. I know something’s wrong. Please, talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered.

“Talk about it?” he said, frustrated. “Emily, you’re clearly not okay. You’ve been like this for days. Let me in. Let me help.”

“I don’t want to bother you with my problems,” she said, trying to sound strong.

Edward’s eyes softened, though his voice stayed serious. “Bother me? Emily, you’re my wife. Your pain is my pain. We’re in this together.”

Emily looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness. “You don’t understand. You already have so much to deal with. I can’t add to that.”

“Damn it, Emily!” Edward raised his voice—something he rarely did. “This isn’t just about me. It’s about us. You can’t push me away like this.”

She turned away, stiff. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Edward took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. He gently turned her to face him. “Emily, look at me. I’m your husband. I love you more than anything. Whatever it is, we can face it together. But you have to let me in.”

Her strength began to fade. Her lips trembled. “I… I can’t…”

“You can,” Edward said softly. “Please, Emily. Trust me.”

That was it. The wall inside her broke. Tears poured down her face. “It’s the diary,” she cried. “My father’s diary. It’s full of terrible things. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Edward wrapped his arms around her as she cried. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly. “You shouldn’t have had to go through this alone.”

“I didn’t want to make you worry,” she said, choking on her words. “I didn’t want to make your life harder.”

“Emily,” he whispered, “worrying about you isn’t a burden. It’s part of loving you. Whatever hurts you, hurts me. We go through everything together.”

She held him tightly, tears soaking his shirt. “I’m sorry, Edward. I should’ve told you.”

“Shh,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay. I’m here now. No more hiding. We’ll face this together.”

She gave a small smile through the tears. “Thank you, Edward. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never need to find out,” he said gently. “I’ll always be here for you. For you, for our family—I’d do anything.”

In that moment, the heavy fear she carried began to lift. Emily knew that with Edward by her side, she could face whatever darkness was waiting for her.

After a quiet moment, Emily looked up at him. “Edward,” she said softly, “I want to let go of the diary. It’s been haunting me for too long. I want to say goodbye.”

Edward nodded. “How can I help?”

“Take me to the cemetery,” she said, voice shaking but firm. “Where my parents are buried. I want to leave it with my father.”

“Of course,” Edward said. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

The next morning, Edward and Emily went to the cemetery. As they walked toward her parents’ graves, the air felt heavy. Emily held the diary close, her hands shaking.

“This is where it ends,” she whispered. “This is where I let go.”

Edward stood beside her, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. “You’re not alone, Emily. I’m right here.”

She opened the diary one last time, looked at the painful words written inside, then shut it firmly. With slow, steady hands, she placed it on her father’s grave. The diary rested there, a symbol of the pain she was finally ready to leave behind.

As she stepped back, a mix of sadness and relief filled her eyes. Edward pulled her into his arms, holding her close.