I found 30 red spots on my husband’s back that looked like insect eggs.

David returned home weeks later. The wounds had healed, but faint red circles still patterned his back — a permanent reminder of betrayal.

Some nights, I’d catch him tracing those scars in the mirror, lost in thought.

“Does it still hurt?” I’d ask softly.

He’d smile faintly. “Not the way it used to.”

Then, after a long pause, he’d add, “Maybe God wanted to remind me what matters most.”

The Lesson

Life eventually returned to its rhythm, though nothing ever felt quite the same. We learned to live slower — to linger longer at the dinner table, to laugh louder with our daughter, to hold each other tighter.

Sometimes I still wake up in the middle of the night, remembering the doctor’s voice echoing in my head — Call 911. Call the police.
That sharp, terrifying moment that split our lives into “before” and “after.”

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