The summer was relentless—scorching heat that seemed to bake the very air around Ashton’s home. The sun blazed without mercy, turning sidewalks into shimmering sheets of glass and making even the smallest movement feel like walking through fire. The fan was her closest ally, the only relief from the oven-like rooms. Their five-year-old daughter, Carlie, was carefree, running around in her swimsuit, splashing in her kiddie pool, and giggling as if the heat didn’t matter.
And yet, Alex, Ashton’s husband, did something that no one expected: he wore long sleeves every single day. Inside the house, outside, on errands—always long sleeves, despite the suffocating heat. At first, Ashton thought maybe Alex was just sensitive about his skin or body. He’d always been private and a little reserved. But then the little signs started to pile up. He flinched when she reached for him. He locked the bathroom door, something he never did before.
He avoided eye contact and seemed almost afraid of being touched. His smiles when questioned felt forced and hollow. One night, Ashton overheard Alex talking on the phone in the bathroom, his voice tense and strained.He promised someone—his mother—that he would tell her soon, that Ashton would understand, but he wasn’t ready yet. The mystery gnawed at Ashton. Days passed with Alex growing more distant. He stopped teasing Carlie at bedtime.
He left dirty dishes scattered around the house instead of the sink. He avoided physical contact for weeks. Whenever Ashton asked about his long sleeves or his strange behavior, he brushed it off with a weak joke or a vague excuse. Then, one morning, while making lunch with Carlie, the little girl surprised Ashton with an innocent yet devastating revelation.