Wife Horrified After Discovering Her Husband’s Secret Hidden in a Suitcase

I had just stepped into the room when I saw my husband hurriedly carrying a suitcase and stashing it away in the attic. Although he said he was just organizing some things, the look on his face and his awkward movements told me he was hiding something.

My husband and I have been married for almost 3 years and we both work at a factory that produces electronic components. Due to financial difficulties, we rent a small room, and our 2-year-old son lives in the countryside with his grandparents.

Although we work at the same factory, we’re in different departments, so our shifts rarely align. When I’m at work, he’s off — and vice versa. Only occasionally do our schedules match so we can spend time together at home.

My husband is a quiet and gentle man. He doesn’t drink or go out. Most of the housework is done by him — even cleaning and cooking. Every month, I collect both our salaries and only give him a small allowance for personal spending. Normally, he doesn’t go anywhere far — just down the alley to drink tea and smoke tobacco before returning to our room.

When I hear others complain about their husbands being womanizers or abusive, I silently feel proud of mine. He may not be great at earning money, but he lives honorably, loves his family, and never fools around.

The boarding house where we rent has all sorts of residents—factory workers, students, freelancers, and even some women working in sensitive professions. Our room is quite cramped, just enough space for a bed, a small cooking area, and a fabric wardrobe. Most of our rarely worn clothes and personal items are kept in a suitcase to save space. For years, I never paid much attention to the suitcase we stored in the attic area of the room because my husband was always the one who cleaned and organized our things whenever we returned from visiting our hometown.

A few days ago, my husband had the day off and stayed home, while I got off work early. Normally, he never locks the door—just a slight push is enough to get in. But that time, I called him several times, and he didn’t come to open the door, so I had to use my key.

As soon as I stepped inside, I saw him hurriedly carrying the suitcase and putting it back up into the attic. Although he said he was just tidying things up, the look on his face and his nervous actions made it clear—he was hiding something.

I said, “Since you’ve got the suitcase out, let me look for that shirt I need.”
Upon hearing that, he snapped, “Whatever you need, just look for it later. Let me put this away in the attic so we can eat.”

But I rushed over and grabbed the suitcase. Seeing that, he panicked and pushed me aside. His reaction only made me more curious — I was determined to open that suitcase no matter what.

He kept insisting there was nothing inside, but his hands clutched the suitcase tightly. When talking didn’t work, I lunged forward and wrestled the suitcase from him. Neither of us backed down — until the lock burst open and the contents scattered all over the floor.

Amidst the personal items and old clothes, I saw a bag containing women’s underwear fall out. I opened it and found 31 pairs of women’s panties in various colors.

My husband, flustered, looked at me and tried to explain:
“I bought them for you… I was afraid you’d get mad, so…”

But just by glancing at it, I knew my husband was lying. Everything looked old and had no tags. The colors were gaudy—green, blue, dark purple—and there were all kinds of sizes. Meanwhile, I only like wearing light colors like white and pink… and my husband, who usually does the laundry, knows that very well.

Before that, there had been frequent complaints in our boarding house about missing underwear, with many women grumbling about it. Strangely, I was the only one who never lost anything. When I told my husband about it, he even said, “What kind of pervert would do such filthy things?”

I froze and stared at him. I didn’t even need to ask—I was certain he was the one stealing the underwear from our neighbors. Judging by how many pieces he had collected, it must have been going on for quite a while.

I didn’t know what to do. I felt utterly disappointed and heartbroken. The man I used to be so proud of had done something so sick and disturbing. Does my husband have some kind of mental illness? Since that day, every time I see his face, I feel a chill down my spine. I don’t want to be close to him anymore. And he… he hasn’t said a word to explain himself.