After fifty years of marriage, Henry’s final question to his wife Martha was not about the meaning of life or the nature of eternity. It was a raw, human query that had likely simmered in silence for decades. In the dim light of the hospital room, he gathered his strength and asked her if she had ever been unfaithful. Martha, a partner who had stood by him through every season of life, did not shy away. She met his gaze and confessed that she had been, on three occasions, but she firmly believed each act was justified by a “good reason” that served their shared life.
She began her story at the beginning, during the financially desperate days of their youth. She reminded Henry of the threat of foreclosure that hung over their first home, a memory that still carried the ache of fear. What Henry never knew was that Martha had taken matters into her own hands, visiting the banker alone one evening. Her secret negotiation led to a mysteriously extended mortgage the following morning, a miracle he had always attributed to luck. Now, he was forced to see it as a desperate sacrifice made out of love for their home and their future together.
The second confession struck even closer to home. Martha spoke of a time when Henry’s life was in jeopardy due to a failing heart, and they could not afford the surgery he needed. In an act of profound desperation, she had gone to his doctor late at night. Her plea, or perhaps her bargain, resulted in the procedure being performed for free the next day. Henry looked at her, the woman who had saved his life through an act that also broke his trust. The contradiction was immense, and his eyes reflected a storm of pain and overwhelming thankfulness.
The third reason was the one that finally broke the solemn tension with its sheer unexpectedness. Martha, with a hint of embarrassment, brought up his long-ago campaign for golf club president. When Henry confirmed he remembered, she delivered the final piece of the puzzle: he had been seventy-three votes short of winning. The unspoken conclusion was both shocking and strangely comical. Henry found himself suspended between hurt and a laugh he was too weak to release. In that final moment of clarity, he saw their entire marriage in a new light. Martha’s love had been a fierce, pragmatic, and wildly unconventional force. She had cheated not for passion, but for his home, his life, and his pride. And as he slipped away, he understood that her loyalty, however unorthodox, had never truly been in question.
