Wife Always Go To The Garage Every Midnight. Husband Followed Her And He Was Shocked

The bedroom clock showed 11:58 p.m.

Peter Arson lay very still in bed and pretended to be asleep. He watched his wife, Jennifer, slowly slide out from under the covers. She moved quietly and carefully, like someone who had done the same thing many times before. She stopped at the bedroom door and turned to look at him. Peter kept his breathing slow and steady so she would think he was sleeping. After a long moment, Jennifer left the room.

Peter counted slowly to sixty in his head and then sat up. His heart was beating fast and hard. For three weeks, Jennifer had been getting out of bed at midnight, going to the garage, locking the door and staying there for about two hours. Then she would come back to bed and act like nothing strange was happening. At first, Peter thought he was imagining it. He told himself maybe she could not sleep and went downstairs for tea. But tea did not take two hours, and tea did not need a locked garage. Tonight he decided he would follow her and find out the truth.

Peter picked up his phone and checked the time. The screen showed 12:01 a.m. He stood up slowly, and his bare feet made no sound on the carpet. The house in the suburbs of Chicago was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. He walked to the stairs and looked down. A faint light shone from under the garage door. His stomach tightened with fear and worry. He wondered what his wife of eight years could be doing in the garage every night at midnight. His mind filled with dark thoughts. He wondered if she was meeting someone. He wondered if she was using drugs. He wondered if she was hiding something from him or planning to leave him.

He walked down the stairs very carefully and reached the garage door. Just as he reached for the doorknob, his phone buzzed. It was a message from his best friend, Marcus. The message said, “Did you talk to Jennifer yet? You cannot keep avoiding this conversation.” Peter had told Marcus about Jennifer’s midnight trips last week. Marcus had told him he needed to confront her because the behavior was not normal. But Peter did not like conflict. In their eight-year marriage, he and Jennifer almost never had big fights. They usually talked things through in a calm way. Now he did not know how to calmly ask his wife why she was sneaking into the garage every night.

He put his phone on silent and tried the doorknob. It did not turn. The door was locked. His heart dropped. Jennifer had asked to put a lock on that door a month earlier, saying it was for safety in case someone broke into the garage. He had thought it was a little strange but had not argued. Now he understood that the lock was not only for strangers. The lock was keeping him out.

He knocked softly on the door and called her name. He said, “Jennifer.” The music inside the garage stopped suddenly. He heard footsteps coming toward the door. Jennifer’s voice sounded tense as she asked, “Peter, what are you doing awake?” He answered, “I could ask you the same thing.” There was an uncomfortable silence. She finally said, “I will be upstairs in a few minutes. Please go back to bed.” Peter said, “Jennifer, please open the door.” She said, “Peter, please just go upstairs.” His frustration grew. He said, “You have been coming down here every night for three weeks. You lock yourself in the garage and do not tell me what you are doing. You cannot expect me to just go back to bed like this.”

There was another long silence. He swallowed and asked, “Are you having an affair? Is someone in there with you?” Jennifer sounded shocked. She said, “What? No, Peter, it is nothing like that.” He said, “Then open the door.” She answered, “I cannot.” Peter asked, “You cannot or you will not?” She sounded quiet and unsure as she said, “I am not ready for you to see.” Peter leaned his forehead against the door and said, “See what, Jennifer? You are scaring me. What is going on?” She said, “I promise I will explain everything soon. I just need more time.”

He asked her how much time she needed. She said, “Two more weeks, maybe three.” Peter could not believe what he was hearing. He asked, “Three more weeks of you sneaking around at midnight and locking doors? Three more weeks of secrets?” She said, “It is not what you are thinking.” He said, “Then help me understand because right now I am thinking about all kinds of terrible things.” He heard her sigh on the other side of the door. Then she asked him a question that hit him hard. She asked, “Peter, do you trust me?”

Before these three weeks, he would have said yes without any doubt. Now his answer was not so simple. He said, “I want to trust you, but trust goes both ways. You are not trusting me with whatever this is.” She replied, “It is not about trust. It is about timing. It has to happen at the right time.” He rubbed his face and said, “I do not understand any of this.” She said, “I know, and I am sorry for making you worry. But please give me a little more time. I promise it will all make sense soon.”

He asked if she was in trouble. She said she was not. He asked if she was sick. She said she was healthy. He asked if she was planning to leave him. She said, “No, Peter. This has nothing to do with me leaving or our marriage being in trouble.” He felt torn. Finally he said, “Two weeks. That is all. After that, no more secrets.” Jennifer agreed and said, “Two weeks. Thank you.”

He walked away from the door, but before he reached the stairs, he turned back and said, “Whatever this is, you know you are not alone, right? You have me.” On the other side of the door, he heard a small sob. She said, “I know. That is what makes this so hard.” Peter went back to the bedroom, but he could not sleep. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling and listening for sounds. At about 2:03 a.m., he heard the garage door open and Jennifer’s footsteps returning. Ten minutes later, he followed her upstairs. When he entered the bedroom, she was already in bed, facing away from him.

He whispered her name. She answered, “I am awake.” He lay down beside her and said, “I meant what I said. Whatever this is, we will face it together.” She turned to face him. He could see the shine of tears on her cheeks, even in the dim light. She said, “I know, and soon I promise everything will make sense.” She kissed him gently and rested her head on his chest. She fell asleep quickly, but Peter stayed awake for hours, worrying about the secret in the garage and what it meant for their marriage.

The next morning, Peter woke up alone in the bed. The empty space beside him felt cold. He checked his phone and saw that it was 9:47 a.m. It was Saturday, so neither of them had work. He found Jennifer in the kitchen flipping pancakes on the stove. She smiled when he walked in and said good morning. She told him she had made his favorite blueberry pancakes with extra butter. He noticed dark circles under her eyes and told her she looked tired. She said she had not slept well but tried to brush it off with a joke about the pancakes making it better.

They ate breakfast together, talking about normal things like his work project and her sister’s upcoming birthday, but the feeling was not normal. It felt like they were acting. After breakfast, Jennifer said she needed to go to the store for milk and coffee. Peter said he would go with her, but she quickly said she would rather he stayed home because she was expecting a delivery and someone needed to sign for it. When he asked what it was, she said it was just some things she ordered online for a project. She did not give details. She grabbed her bag, kissed him lightly and left.

After she left, the house felt too quiet. Peter’s eyes kept drifting to the garage door. He walked over to it and placed his hand on the knob. This time the door was not locked. He could open it easily and finally see what she was hiding. He stood there for a long time, fighting with himself. He had promised her he would wait two weeks, and it had only been a few days. He did not want to break his word. After a moment, he pulled his hand away and decided not to open the door.

His phone rang. It was his mother. She asked how he and Jennifer were doing. Then she said something that surprised him. She said, “Jennifer called me last week and asked about your father’s old workshop tools. She wanted to know if we still had them, especially the table saw and sanding equipment.” Peter’s attention sharpened. He asked what his mother had told her. His mother said most of the tools were in a storage unit and she had offered to send them, but Jennifer said she would let her know later.

After the call, Peter sat at the kitchen table and thought. Woodworking tools. He wondered what Jennifer needed them for. He opened his laptop and checked their recent credit card transactions. He saw several purchases from hardware stores and art supply shops. Some were small amounts for brushes, paints and canvases. Others were for wood and other building materials. A pattern started to form in his mind. Jennifer was building or creating something in the garage, and she wanted it to be a surprise.

The doorbell rang. A delivery driver stood outside with a heavy box. The name of an art supply company was printed on the label. The box was addressed to Jennifer. Peter signed for it and carried it inside. He stared at the box for a long time. Part of him wanted to open it to learn more, but instead he carried it to the garage door and left it there unopened.

When Jennifer came home, she saw the box and smiled with relief. She said, “Oh good, it arrived.” Peter asked, “What is it?” She lifted the box and said it was just some supplies for her project. He asked what kind of project, and she paused. She looked like she wanted to tell him but then stopped herself. She said quietly, “Soon, Peter. Very soon you will understand everything.” Then she carried the box into the garage and locked the door behind her.

That night Peter told himself he would not go downstairs while she was in the garage. He planned to stay in bed and respect their agreement. But as midnight came and he heard her leave the bed, his mind started racing again. He sent a message to Marcus saying he did not think he could do this for two more weeks. Marcus called him and told him he should stop being passive and demand answers. Peter ended the call feeling even more confused.

He walked to the stairs and looked down at the faint light under the garage door. He stood at the top step, fighting with himself, then went back to bed without knocking. He was restless and could not sleep. When Jennifer returned at 2 a.m., she climbed into bed carefully. She sensed that he was awake and whispered, “You cannot sleep?” He said no. She moved closer and took his hand and said, “I am sorry for putting you through this.” He said, “Then end it. Tell me what is going on.” She said she could not yet.

He pulled his hand away and said, “I do not understand why. What could be so secret?” She was quiet for a long moment, then said, “Do you remember when we first dated and talked about our dreams?” He frowned and said yes. She reminded him that he used to talk about dreaming of being an astronaut, a race car driver or a baseball player when he was a child. Then she said, “I told you that I wanted to be an artist.”

She explained that she used to draw and paint all the time when she was young, but her parents had pushed her into studying business because they said art was not practical. She said that for years she had tried to be sensible and responsible and had hidden that creative part of herself. Recently she had started feeling empty, like something important was missing. She said she had been wondering what her life would have been like if she had not given up that dream.

Peter held her hand and said she could have told him all this. She said she felt ashamed to tell him she was struggling with old dreams at her age. She also said she was scared that she was no longer good at painting and did not want him to see her fail. The garage, she told him, was where she had been trying to reconnect with that part of herself. She said she had been teaching herself to paint again, using his father’s old tools to build what she needed and the things she ordered to create a large, special piece.

Peter felt a wave of relief. He said, “So this is what it is about. Art.” She said, “Yes, I know it sounds silly.” He shook his head and said it did not sound silly. He said it sounded brave and important and that he was proud of her for trying. She said she had not told him because she knew he loved her and would support her no matter what, and she needed to know for herself if this dream still mattered. She told him that the project in the garage was something she was making for them, and she wanted it to be part of their anniversary. She asked him to wait just one more week.

He agreed. Knowing the truth, even partially, helped him feel calmer. Over the next days, Jennifer still went to the garage at night, but now Peter did not feel so afraid. He knew she was painting something for their marriage. He told Marcus the new explanation. Marcus said it still sounded strange but admitted it was better than the other things they had imagined.

As their anniversary approached, Peter also began to plan something special. He remembered a restaurant where they celebrated their first anniversary, an Italian place with a rooftop called Gian Carlo’s. It had closed, but Marcus told him it had recently reopened under new owners. Peter made a reservation and bought Jennifer a high-quality set of art supplies in a wooden box. He wrote a card that said, “Never stop creating. I love you.”

On the day of their eighth anniversary, Jennifer came home from work with nervous excitement on her face. She asked if he was ready to see his gift. He said yes and gave her the art set. She opened it and gasped. She said, “These are professional supplies.” He said, “You will need them because this is not the end. This is the beginning of you painting again.” Tears filled her eyes and she hugged him tightly.

Then she took his hand and led him downstairs to the garage. She told him to close his eyes. She unlocked the door, guided him inside and positioned him in front of something large. Then she told him to open his eyes.

He opened them and stared in shock. On one wall of the garage was a huge painting nearly as tall as he was and wider than their sofa. It showed their house, but not exactly how it looked in real life. The sky above it was painted in swirls of purple and gold. The trees were in shades of silver and blue. The garden was full of unreal colors. In front of the house were two figures holding hands. The figures were clearly meant to be him and Jennifer, but they were painted in an impressionistic style, made of flowing colors and light.

Around the main scene, in the corners and edges of the painting, were smaller scenes from their life. One showed them sitting at a café during their first date. Another showed their wedding day. Another showed them on the couch watching movies. Another showed them with suitcases at an airport. Each small picture was glowing with color and movement. She had turned their memories into art.

Peter felt his eyes fill with tears. He said, “Jennifer, this is amazing.” She looked nervous and asked if he really liked it. He stepped closer and said he did not just like it. He said he loved it. He said it was the most beautiful gift anyone had ever given him. She told him she had started with the house and then added the two of them. After that she decided to add all the small scenes that represented their years together. She said it had taken every night to finish.

As he looked closer at the upper right corner of the painting, he noticed something small he had not seen at first. There were three tiny figures between the painted versions of him and Jennifer, hidden among the swirling colors. They looked like small children holding hands. He pointed and asked, “Are those children?” She blushed and nodded. She said that on the last night she suddenly felt that something was missing and she painted the little figures without really thinking. She said she painted three children because that number simply felt right, though she did not know why.

He smiled and said, “Three looks perfect.” Then he kissed her.

A few days later, Peter came home and found Jennifer sitting at the kitchen table looking nervous again. She pushed a small white plastic stick across the table toward him. When he saw the two pink lines, his mouth went dry. Jennifer said, “I am pregnant.” He stared at her in shock. They had not planned to have a baby yet and had always been careful. His first feelings were surprise and fear, but those quickly turned into joy. He asked how she felt. She said she was scared but also excited.

She told him she had gone to the doctor thinking she had the flu and ended up learning she was about six weeks pregnant. That meant she had already been pregnant during some of her late-night painting sessions, but she had not known it at the time. They laughed and cried together as they realized that their baby had been with them from the start of this whole garage mystery.

Jennifer later pointed again at the three tiny children in the painting. She said, “I painted three. What if that means something?” Peter joked that maybe they were having triplets. She laughed and said that was probably crazy. A doctor’s appointment a few weeks later gave them the real answer.

At the ultrasound, they held hands as the technician moved the device over Jennifer’s stomach. On the screen, a grey shape appeared. The technician said, “Here is a baby.” Then she moved the device and said, “And here is another one.” Jennifer gasped and asked, “Twins?” The technician moved again and said, “And here is a third. You are having triplets.” Peter and Jennifer both cried and laughed at the same time. Jennifer kept saying, “I painted three,” and Peter kept saying, “We are going to have three babies.”

The doctor explained that triplet pregnancies were high risk and that Jennifer would need extra care and more checkups. She would likely need to stop working earlier than planned. The babies would probably be born early. There were many things to be careful about, but for Peter and Jennifer, the main feeling was joy. They began making space in the house and their lives for three new little people.

They painted the nursery a soft yellow color that would work for any gender. Jennifer used her new studio in the converted garage to paint soft, dreamy pictures for the babies’ room. She made three small paintings, one with moon and stars, one with trees and animals, and one with waves and fish, each in her colorful swirling style. They bought three cribs, three sets of clothes and three of almost everything. Their families and friends helped as much as they could.

At thirty-three weeks, Jennifer went into labor. They rushed to the hospital. The birth was intense and difficult, but in the end all three babies arrived safely. The doctor announced that they had three boys. The nurses wrapped them in blankets and put small colored bands on their wrists so everyone could tell them apart. The parents chose names together. The baby with the blue band was named Thomas. The baby with the green band was named Matthew. The baby with the red band was named Christopher.

The first months at home were exhausting. Peter took time off from work. Jennifer’s mother came to live with them for a while to help. Someone was always awake feeding one baby, changing another and rocking another to sleep. They often felt tired and overwhelmed, but each time they looked at their sons, they felt love and gratitude. Slowly the babies grew, and their personalities started to show. Thomas watched everything quietly and seemed thoughtful. Matthew was calm and rarely cried. Christopher was the most active and moved around as much as his little body allowed.

On their first birthday, the house was full of balloons and family. As Peter watched Jennifer hold one baby while helping another blow out a candle, his friend Marcus teased him and said that he had gone from worrying about his wife sneaking into the garage to being the father of three boys. Peter laughed and agreed that life had changed in ways he never expected.

Later that night, after everyone left and the house was quiet, Peter and Jennifer stood together in the hallway looking at the big painting that had started everything. The two glowing figures and three small children were there on the wall, just like their real family now. Peter asked, “How did you know to paint three?” Jennifer said, “I did not know. I just painted what felt right. Maybe part of me knew something my mind did not.” Peter wrapped an arm around her shoulders and said he was glad she followed that feeling. He told her he was proud of her for finding her art again and for being an amazing mother.

Jennifer smiled and said she was proud of him for supporting her dream and for being a loving father and partner. She told him she was already working on another big painting in the studio. When he asked what it was, she told him he would see it when it was ready. She joked that she might need a few more weeks of midnight painting sessions, but this time he just laughed and said he could handle it as long as it did not lead to more triplets.

They heard one of the babies start to cry, and then another, and then the third. They looked at each other, smiled and walked upstairs together. As Peter picked up one of his sons and held him close, he thought about the night he had almost opened the garage door and how scared and suspicious he had felt. He realized that the secret that had scared him had actually been the beginning of something beautiful. His wife had rediscovered her passion, and together they had built a family and a life that felt full and meaningful. He felt very lucky and very grateful.

Jennifer came to stand beside him, holding the other two boys. She asked what he was thinking. He said he was thinking about how lucky they were and how everything had started with a locked door, some late nights and a dream she was brave enough to follow. They smiled at each other and then turned their attention back to their three sons, knowing that their life was busy, loud, tiring and also full of love.