A routine checkup had found something serious, he explained. “They weren’t sure,” he said. Tests followed. Possibilities multiplied. Costs loomed. He spoke carefully, as if words themselves might cause harm. Listening, she felt fear shift shape. It was no longer betrayal, but mortality pressing in.
He told her he hadn’t known how bad it could be. “I stayed at a hotel close to the private clinic. I was waiting for the results,” he said. Waiting for certainty. Her anger softened, but his words did not erase the feeling of exclusion. She listened, arms crossed, torn between understanding and the hurt of being shut out.