She watched him slip into his mother’s chamber every night for a year after they were married, until one day, out of curiosity, she made an astonishing discovery.
On a mild spring evening, Clara and Marc were married in front of their families, who were beaming with joy. She was charming and courteous, and he was talented and attentive, making them look like the ideal couple. Marc was the only child, and Clara, a youthful, devoted, and seasoned wife, had won her mother-in-law, Mrs. Hélène, over right away.
However, less than a month after the wedding, Clara noticed an odd habit: Marc would claim he couldn’t sleep and then discreetly go to his mother’s room to… “reassure her” after they had spent some time talking or unwinding together.
This made sense to Clara at first. For years, Mrs. Hélène had battled persistent sleeplessness, which was made worse by her husband’s death. The only person she could sleep with was someone she trusted. However, Clara questioned why Marc never accompanied her mother to the doctor. Why did he have to spend every night with his mature, self-sufficient mother?
Months went by—three, six,… and Clara began to feel more isolated in her own house. Marc always gave her a gentle, comforting smile in response when she brought it up to him: “Darling, Mom has been alone for so long.” She can sleep well now that her son is at her side. It won’t be a problem for a short while.
“For a short while?” Clara pondered. “How much time will this last?”
A full year passed. Clara had no children yet, in part because she wanted a true married life before thinking about being a mother, but also because she was beginning to doubt and worry about becoming a mother.
Then Clara woke up at two in the morning one night. She heard whispers coming from behind her mother-in-law’s closed door as she crossed the hallway. Was that just a sigh, or was there more to the whisper?
She paid close attention to every detail after that. She discovered the door was locked from the inside one morning while she was phoning Mrs. Hélène for breakfast. Clara was troubled by this odd tendency and her uneasiness increased. “Mom feels safer this way,” Marc said with a kind smile. For peace, she just locks it.
Clara’s doubts and uneasiness increased day by day until that night—a somber, rainy July night. Marc didn’t offer his go-to line that night, “I’ll just stay with Mom for a bit, I’ll be back soon.”
There was no utterance of this nearly ritualistic statement. Clara held out.
After nearly an hour, she stood up barefoot on the chilly floor and walked toward the door, which was illuminated by a dim yellow glow. Her hands were shaking and her heart was pounding. Leaning in, Clara peered through the crevice.
She was totally paralyzed by what she saw within.
Her heart pounded. Peeking through the fissure, she
Marc did not sleep next to his mom. His eyes were red with exhaustion as he sat close to her, grasping her hand. Mrs. Hélène whispered incoherently:
“My son, why are you leaving me? You resemble your dad. Don’t leave me, please.
Then Clara saw that it was much deeper than she had thought.
Clara told her husband the following day, her eyes puffy from sleep deprivation, “I want to know the truth.” Last night, I saw you.
Marc remained motionless for a moment before he sighed and said in a shaky voice, “Mom… she experienced a really significant trauma after my father passed away. However, contrary to popular belief, he did not die by accident. He killed himself.
Clara stopped. In the family, no one had ever discussed it.
Marc went on:
“My dad owned a sizable construction business. He was unable to cope with the pressure after becoming embroiled in a corruption controversy. It was Mom who discovered him. She hasn’t had a sense of time since. I also cry sometimes. According to the physicians, she required a companion each night to keep her rooted in reality. I stay with her to reassure her because I am her only son.
All of Clara’s accumulated misgivings and anxieties were allayed by these remarks. She sobbed—out of shame rather than pain. Everything had been misinterpreted by her. Her spouse was not chilly or aloof; rather, he was a loving son who comforted his mother every night.
Clara has changed since then. She started brewing ginger tea every morning with her mother-in-law as they discussed trivial topics like the market, flowers, and the kids in the neighborhood. They were pulled back to the present by these times.
“You are Marc’s wife?” Mrs. Hélène asked, taking Clara’s hand, during a rare moment of clarity one day.
Clara gave a nod.
“Pardon me… My daughter, I caused you pain.
Clara started crying. She experienced a genuine connection with her mother-in-law for the first time.
Clara requested to sleep next to Mrs. Hélène that night. Clara clutched the elderly woman and whispered, “I’m here, Mom,” when she woke up at two in the morning. Your daughter-in-law, Clara. You’re not by yourself. Nobody is going to abandon you.
The elderly woman shuddered and then calmed down.
Mrs. Hélène was well a year later. Her seizures were infrequent, and she was able to walk by herself. She grinned as she recalled Clara’s name. Binh, which means “peace” in Vietnamese, is the name that Clara and Marc gave their daughter. “Because Mom suffered so much,” Clara remarked. There must be peace now.
“I used to hate that room where you disappeared every night,” Clara wrote in a letter to Marc. I now see that it was a place of sacrifice, love, and quiet suffering. I appreciate you teaching me that even when we believe everything is shattered, happiness may occasionally surface.
This is not merely a tale of a loving spouse and a suffering wife. It’s about the three things we all experience: uncertainty, separation, and ultimately, comprehension.
Sometimes we need to save our own hearts more than anyone else.
