I got home exhausted after work. The living room lamp glowed softly, and the TV hummed from our bedroom. Matt was asleep on the couch—odd, since he usually greeted me.

Shrugging it off, I headed to the bathroom for a shower. Then I froze. A shadow moved behind the curtain. My heart slammed.

“Matt?!” I yelled. The curtain whipped back. A stranger stood there, water dripping from his body.

I screamed and bolted. Matt woke, pale, grabbed my arm, and shouted, “Get to the car! Lock it! Call 911!”

Later, the police confirmed the intruder had been hiding in our guest room for days. Matt’s reaction? Perfectly instinctive—because the man wasn’t random. He was someone from Matt’s past, a secret he hadn’t shared. That night, safe in the quiet of the car, I realized just how much I didn’t know about him.