“Were you at the hospital?” I asked.
He pulled away quickly. “No. Why would you think that?”
“You smell like you were in a hospital.”
“Oh, that… yes. I stopped by to drop off some paperwork,” he said quickly.
He was lying. I knew it.
The next afternoon, he announced he was going for a walk. I waited five minutes, then followed him. He walked into a hospital. I slipped inside and followed his voice to a consultation room.
“I don’t want to die,” Charles was saying. “Not now. Not when I finally have something to live for.”
A doctor replied, “Surgery is your best option, Charles. But we need to schedule it soon. Your heart can’t sustain this much longer.”
My hand flew to my mouth. His heart?
“How long do I have?” Charles asked.
“Months. Maybe a year. But with surgery, you could have years.”
I pushed the door open. “What’s going on?”
The doctor asked if I was family. “I’m his wife,” I said.
Charles looked pale. “Ellie, I can explain…”
“Then explain.”
The doctor left us alone. Charles sat down, shoulders sagging.
“Your heart is failing,” I said.
“Yes.”
