KNEELING IN THE DARK CORNER
My name is Michael Carter, thirty-two years old, a construction engineer working for a private company in California. Before marriage, my life was painfully simple: work, go home, hit the gym, sleep. Nothing dramatic, nothing memorable. That was until I met Emily, the woman who made me believe I had finally found a place to belong.
Emily was four years younger than me. She wasn’t the kind of woman who stunned people at first glance, but the longer you stayed around her, the deeper you were drawn in by her gentleness and fragile aura. She had sad brown eyes, the kind that always seemed to be hiding something unspeakable. I used to think that sadness came from a difficult past, from years of struggling alone in a big city.
We fell in love quickly. Six months after our first meeting, I proposed. Emily cried uncontrollably when I knelt down, nodding through tears as she placed her trembling hand in mine. At that moment, I believed those were tears of pure happiness.
We had been married for less than a year.
Last month, Emily told me she was pregnant.
That day, I was at the construction site when my phone rang. Her voice on the other end was shaking.
“Michael… I’m pregnant.”
I froze in the middle of the dusty site, surrounded by the deafening noise of heavy machinery. It felt as if the entire sky had collapsed onto my chest. I laughed like an idiot, then immediately asked for half a day off and drove home in a daze I had never experienced before.
But joy soon came with worry.
Emily had always been physically weak. She often felt dizzy, nauseous, and she once had a miscarriage in a previous relationship—something she mentioned only briefly and never wanted to talk about again. Since becoming pregnant, she seemed exhausted all the time. Even basic housework became overwhelming.
That was when I started thinking about hiring a housekeeper.
1. The Woman Who Entered Our Home
A friend introduced me to a middle-aged woman named Laura Nguyen, an Asian woman who had worked as a housekeeper for over fifteen years. According to him, Laura was meticulous, discreet, and experienced in caring for pregnant women and children.
I didn’t hesitate. At that point, I had only one concern: Emily’s health and the safety of our unborn child.
I called Laura. She agreed to come immediately.
That day, Emily was visiting her mother in another state, so I was the one who met Laura. She was in her early fifties, thin, with sun-darkened skin and sharp yet composed eyes. She spoke slowly and carefully.
“I only do my job,” she said calmly. “I don’t interfere in my employer’s personal affairs.”
That reassured me.
That night, I texted Emily:
“I’ve hired a housekeeper. She seems reliable.”
Emily replied with just one word:
“Okay.”
The next day, Emily came home.
When she stepped into the house and saw Laura, something strange happened.
Emily froze.
It lasted only a second, but I saw it clearly—an instinctive flash of fear in her eyes, as if she had just encountered a ghost from her past. She lowered her head, greeted Laura awkwardly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Laura simply nodded, her expression unchanged.
I told myself Emily was probably just tired.
Over the next few days, Laura worked efficiently. The house was spotless, the meals were nutritious, and Emily’s condition seemed to improve slightly. But something still felt off.
Emily avoided Laura.
She never stayed in the same room with her for more than a few minutes. Whenever Laura appeared, Emily would find an excuse to leave. At night, Emily often woke up startled, drenched in cold sweat, instinctively placing her hands over her belly as if protecting the baby.
When I asked her what was wrong, she shook her head.
“I’m fine,” she said.
2. The Third Night
The third night after Laura started working.
Around two in the morning, I woke up feeling thirsty. I reached out beside me—Emily wasn’t there. The bed was cold.
I assumed she had gone downstairs for water or to the bathroom. I put on a jacket and went down as well.
The house was completely silent.
As I passed the small room on the ground floor where the housekeeper stayed, I suddenly heard muffled sobbing.
My heart pounded.
The door was slightly ajar, a faint yellow light spilling out. I stopped when I recognized Emily’s voice, broken and trembling.
“Please… I’m begging you, Laura… please don’t tell him.”
My blood ran cold.
I stepped closer and looked through the gap in the door.
The scene before me made my legs go weak.
Emily was kneeling.
She was kneeling on the floor, hands clasped together, her body shaking violently. Laura sat on the bed in front of her, her face cold and unreadable. Emily was crying uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face.
“I was wrong… it was a long time ago… now I just want a peaceful life with my husband and my child… please, please keep this secret for me…”
Laura remained silent for a long time.
Finally, she sighed and nodded.
“I won’t tell him,” she said. “But remember your promise.”
Emily collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.
I don’t remember how I managed to walk back to the bedroom.
I lay beside Emily when she returned to bed, her body still trembling with fear. I pretended to sleep, but my mind was in chaos.
My wife was hiding something from me.
Something so terrible that it drove her to kneel and beg a housekeeper.
3. Sixty Thousand Dollars for the Truth
For the next two days, I lived like a hollow shell. I watched Emily eat, sleep, smile, and I kept asking myself: Who am I really looking at?
Finally, I asked Laura to come into the living room.
“What do you know about my wife?” I asked bluntly.
Laura stayed silent.
After a while, she spoke.
“She gave me thirty thousand dollars to keep quiet.”
I let out a bitter laugh.
“I’ll give you sixty thousand,” I said. “Just tell me everything.”
Laura stared at me for a long moment, then nodded.
4. The Horrifying Secret
Emily had once been the other woman.
Years ago, while working as an assistant to a married executive, she entered an illicit relationship in exchange for career advancement.
That man was Laura’s former employer.
Laura had seen everything—the secret embraces, the times Emily sneaked into the house when the wife was away, the empty promises whispered behind closed doors.
“She knows she was wrong,” Laura said quietly.
“But wrong is still wrong.”
I couldn’t say a single word.
5. What Should I Do Now?
I dismissed Laura that very day.
As for me, I sat alone in this house, staring at the unfinished crib, watching Emily’s belly grow day by day, and asking myself:
Can I continue loving my wife as if I never learned the truth?
Or was my love never strong enough to carry the weight of someone else’s past?
