Harold had always loved his garage, a retreat from the world where he could unwind. But when he started locking it every night, something felt off. After weeks of suspicion, I finally discovered the truth.

One afternoon, when Harold was at work, I used the spare key to sneak into the garage. There, scattered across the workbench, were dozens of photos of a young woman — someone I didn’t recognize. My heart sank. Who was she, and why was Harold hiding these photos?That night, I watched as Harold, as usual, retreated to the garage. When I peered through the window, I saw him studying one of the photos, his fingers tracing her face. Then he pulled out an engagement ring and a small fabric doll. Confused and overwhelmed, I stormed into the garage, demanding answers.