A cell phone | Source: Pexels
Not that I knew what to say. What can you say when your husband, after 25 years of marriage, prefers a beach vacation to a hospital bed?
I lay there, my left side betraying me almost as much as Jeff’s. I couldn’t even cry properly because my face wouldn’t cooperate.
But inside? Inside, I screamed.
A woman in distress in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
Twenty-five years old. I’d supported him through three layoffs, each of which had dealt a severe blow to his ego, which I’d carefully repaired.
Two companies that went bankrupt and devoured our savings like termites. For years, he said he wasn’t ready to have children… until early menopause forced us to make that decision.
I built my career quietly, took care of our home, and never asked her to miss a game of golf or a drink with friends.
A window overlooking a quiet suburban neighborhood | Source: Pexels
But now that I needed him? He disappeared. On vacation. With his brother.
My hand was shaking when I picked up the phone. I needed to make a call to the person Jeff had always underestimated.
“Ava?” My voice was shaking. “I need you.”
Ava, my niece. Twenty-seven years old, with an MBA, and recently heartbroken after her boyfriend cheated on her… with Jeff’s secretary, in a truly twisted coincidence.
A confident woman | Source: Midjourney
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice immediately alarmed. “Where are you?”
I told him about the stroke. About Jeff’s call. About the Maldives.
There was a long pause, then a sudden exhalation.
“I’m in,” he said. “Let’s burn everything.”
A cell phone | Source: Pexels
The recovery was brutal.
