Read my (dead) wife’s journals

I didn’t get to know my wife for very long before she died. Around 3 years. She wasn’t at all an in-your-face person about her past; I wanted to know more than she shared. I figured we had a lifetime to learn each other. I learned the hard way that a lifetime is relative. After she died, I found a stash of about 25 journals. Were she alive, I’d have been a respect that boundary human, but I wanted to know anything more about my wife and they were far enough before me I mostly knew no one she wrote of. I read them all and mourned/validated my wonderful pick of a human. I know y’all mighta been hoping for something spicy, and tbh, writing this out has given me fodder for a couple different genres of short stories. But I broke a code I thought I held and I don’t regret it and I don’t think she would ever hold it against me. I am grateful to have had those to know her a little bit better.