AFTER SIX MONTHS AWAY, I WAS SHOCKED TO FIND A “STRANGE WOMAN” IN MY BATHROOM

I had just returned from a business trip that lasted nearly six months — the longest time I had ever been away from home since getting married.

Throughout those six months, I hadn’t been able to come home even once. I had been working in another city, and traveling back and forth was both inconvenient and expensive. My days were packed with meetings, deadlines, and pressure. Before I knew it, half a year had passed.

When I finally returned, I didn’t tell my wife in advance. I wanted to surprise her.

It was almost 9 p.m. when I arrived home.

I quietly unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house was dim and silent. At this hour, our child must have already been asleep. The living room was empty, eerily still, as if no one was home.

I walked slowly down the hallway and peeked into my child’s bedroom. Seeing my child sleeping peacefully, breathing softly, eased the ache of missing home that had been building in my chest for months. I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, just watching, before gently closing the door.

Then I went to look for my wife.

She wasn’t in the bedroom.

But I noticed the bathroom light was on, and I could hear the sound of running water. Naturally, I assumed my wife was inside taking a shower.

I called her name softly.

No response.

The bathroom door wasn’t locked, so I pushed it open.

The moment I stepped inside, I froze.

Standing under the shower was a woman — completely naked.

I gasped and instinctively turned away, my heart slamming violently against my chest.

Just from a single glance at her body, I could swear on my life that she was not my wife.

My mind went blank.

Who was this woman?

Why was there a stranger in my house?

Was she a neighbor? A friend of my wife’s? Or… something far worse?

Panicked and confused, I hurried out of the bathroom, my head spinning. I was about to grab my phone to call my wife when I suddenly heard a voice behind me.

Calling my name.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Slowly, I turned around.

The woman from the bathroom was walking toward me, a towel wrapped loosely around her body. As her face came into view, I felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under my feet.

I stood there, completely stunned.

It was my wife.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Earlier, in the bathroom, she had been facing away from me. Her body shape had changed so drastically that I hadn’t recognized her at all. The woman standing in front of me now looked nothing like the wife I remembered from six months ago.

Six months ago, my wife had just given birth. Her body was heavy, swollen, and far from slim. There was no way I could have imagined she would look like this now.

Her figure was toned, firm, and balanced. Her posture was confident. She looked radiant — almost glowing.

Seeing the shock on my face, she spoke calmly, with a faint smile that I couldn’t quite read.

“Didn’t you recognize me?” she said.
“I just lost some weight. Is that really enough for you not to recognize your own wife?”

I had no words.

It was true. She had lost nearly 20 kilograms during the six months I was away.

Later, she told me that she had completely transformed herself through strict dieting and regular gym workouts. During the past six months, even though I had called home frequently, most of my calls were with our child. At best, I had only seen half of her face on video calls — never her full body.

When we finally went into the bedroom together, all the longing I had suppressed for half a year came rushing back. I lunged forward and wrapped my arms tightly around her.

She felt warm. Real. Alive.

She looked even more attractive than she had when we first fell in love — healthy, confident, and undeniably beautiful.

But before I could say anything else, she pushed me away.

Her expression turned cold.

“Who said you’re allowed to hug me?” she said flatly.
“Didn’t you tell your best friend that you volunteered to work far away for so long because you were tired of having a wife whose body had become ugly after giving birth?”

My heart sank.

Those words hit me harder than anything I’d experienced during the past six months.

She continued, her voice steady but sharp:

“When I was exhausted, out of shape, and struggling after childbirth, you looked down on me.
Now that I’ve lost weight and look good again, you suddenly come running back?”

I was speechless.

It was true.

I had said those things in a message to my best friend. I never imagined that my wife would see it.

At the time, I told myself that I went away for work to advance my career. But deep down, I knew there was another reason — I was dissatisfied with how my wife looked after giving birth. I missed the woman she used to be, and instead of facing my own immaturity, I chose distance.

Now, she wouldn’t let me touch her.

She said she needed time. She said she wanted to see how I would act before deciding what came next.

I felt deeply wronged.

After all, I had never betrayed her. I had never cheated. I had worked hard for the family.

Was she being too harsh on me?

Or was this simply the consequence of the words I once thought didn’t matter?

For the first time since returning home, I realized something painfully clear:

Some wounds don’t bleed.
But they take far longer to heal.