Oh, the joys of curiosity!

It all started with an innocent tiptoe and

a heart pounding like a drum solo from a 70s rock band

. I slid into the house unnoticed,

hearing those classic hushed tones coming from the living room.

Intrigue and dread mingled,

driving me to channel my inner sleuth.

What I saw nearly stopped my heart in its tracks:

my husband, slouched miserably on the couch

, his face buried in his hands like

he was auditioning for a melodramatic soap opera.

Trying to ease my way into whatever drama was unfolding,

I squeaked out

, “What’s wrong?”

If there were awards for shocked faces,

my husband and his parents would have been frontrunners

. Their heads whipped up with the speed of startled owls.

His eyes, red and tear-stricken, met mine.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart,”

he mumbled, in the least convincing tone ever.