But I stayed because I loved him.
Then November arrived.
And everything changed.
Six weeks.
That’s what the doctors gave him.
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and flowers.
Marlene intercepted me before I reached his room.
“He’s resting,” she said.
“He doesn’t need a scene.”
I could have fought her.
I was his wife.
But nurses watched from nearby stations, and I didn’t want him hearing arguments through thin walls.
So I waited.
Three hours.
Then she left for coffee.
I slipped inside.
Russell looked smaller somehow.
Paler.
Fragile.
He squeezed my hand.
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“Don’t fight them,” he whispered.
“Just trust me.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t care about the house.”
He smiled weakly.
“I know.”
“Then why say that?”
