My Paralyzed Husband’s Dirty Little Secret

I couldn’t sleep, so I opened my nightstand drawer, looking for a couple of melatonin gummies.

The sleeping aids weren't there. Instead, tucked in the corner, was a box of condoms.

And out of the twelve-pack, only one was left.

"Hey, babe, you're back early. Why didn't you tell me?"

My husband lay on the bed, forcing a smile. I easily caught the flash of panic in his eyes.

I stared at his lower body—the legs that couldn't move—and fell into a deep silence.

Ethan had been paralyzed from the waist down in a car accident two years ago. He was completely impotent.