I Woke up to My Husband Mumbling in His Sleep – When He Finished His ‘Speech,’ I Immediately Ran to Our Garage

It started with a whisper in the dead of night.

I was half-asleep when I heard my husband Robert mumble in his sleep: “She’s in my garage right now. You can go down and find her there.”

The words sent a chill through me. I sat up, my heart pounding. Was it just a dream?

Robert looked peaceful, his chest rising and falling in rhythm. Normally, he was kind, dependable, and predictable—never one to keep secrets. We’d been married for five years, and nothing about him suggested he’d ever hide something from me. But his strange words and the oddness of the evening nagged at me. Earlier, he’d texted that he’d be home late from the café he recently opened, something he rarely did. Now this.

Carefully, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door. The house was quiet, shadows stretching along the hallway. I paused at the top of the stairs, debating if I should just go back to bed. But curiosity—or dread—pushed me forward.

The cold air under the garage door greeted me as I opened it. Inside, the dim glow of a single bulb cast long shadows. Robert’s car sat in the middle of the space, its hood dented. My breath caught. That wasn’t there yesterday.

The smell of oil mingled with something musky and wild. A soft, rasping sound came from the far corner. My pulse quickened.

“Hello?” I whispered, stepping cautiously toward the sound.

In the shadows, a small, frail figure stirred—a fox, curled up on a pile of blankets. Its reddish fur was matted, its breathing shallow. Relief washed over me; it wasn’t a person. But worry quickly replaced it. Why was there an injured fox in my garage?

“You poor thing,” I murmured. The fox whimpered, lifting its head weakly. I backed away, deciding to fetch some water.

As I entered the kitchen, Robert’s groggy voice startled me. “What are you doing up?”

I froze, clutching the bowl. “There’s a fox in the garage,” I said.

His eyes widened, guilt flashing across his face. “You saw her?”

“Robert,” I pressed, “what is going on?”

He sighed, leaning against the counter. “Okay, don’t freak out. I hit her with the car on my way home.” He raised his hands defensively as my mouth dropped open. “It wasn’t too bad! She’s okay, but she needed care. I took her to the clinic, but she wouldn’t stop crying when I tried to leave her. I panicked and brought her home.”

I shook my head, half-exasperated, half-amused. “You brought her home and stashed her in the garage?”

“She wouldn’t have survived alone,” he said earnestly. “If it’s a problem, I can take her somewhere else tomorrow.”

His sheepish grin and obvious guilt softened my frustration. “Let’s just focus on making sure she’s okay,” I said, setting the water down.

Over the next few days, we learned how to care for the fox....