As Henry lay on his deathbed, the room was quiet except for the faint beeping of the monitor and the slow, uneven rhythm of his breathing. Martha, his wife of 50 years, sat beside him, clutching his frail hand. She could feel time slipping away, and so could he.

With trembling lips, Henry whispered, “Martha… soon I’ll be gone forever, and there’s something I have to know. In all these years of marriage… have you ever been unfaithful to me?”

Martha froze. Her eyes filled with tears. She knew this moment would come.

“Well, Henry… I have to be honest with you,” she said softly. “Yes… I’ve been unfaithful three times. But only for good reasons.”

Henry felt his heart drop, but he held himself together. “I never suspected,” he muttered. “What do you mean by good reasons?”

She took a deep breath.

“The first time was after we got married, when we were about to lose our home. We couldn’t pay the mortgage. Do you remember that evening I went to talk to the banker… and the next day he suddenly agreed to extend our loan?”

Henry nodded slowly. “I remember. You… saved our home. I can forgive that. But the second time?”

Martha continued, “Years later, when you were desperately ill… we didn’t have the money to pay for the heart surgery you needed. I went to see your doctor late one night… and the next morning, he said he’d do the operation for free.”

Henry’s eyes filled — with shock, with hurt, with gratitude all mixed together. “You saved my life,” he whispered. “I… I can understand that too. And the third time?”

Martha hesitated… then looked him straight in the eyes.

“Well, Henry… do you remember when you ran for president of the golf club… and you needed 73 more votes?”