I trusted my husband. I never questioned his long hours at the hospital, never doubted his words—until one night, a single slip shattered everything I thought I knew about him. I always loved watching him speak.
The way his eyes would glisten when he talked about medicine, how his voice carried that quiet authority—steady, reassuring, the voice of a man who had dedicated his life to healing others. It was one of the first things I fell for, the way he could turn even the most complex medical jargon into something fascinating. Dr.
Nathan, my husband of eight years, and the man who had saved so many lives. And, in some ways, had saved mine. For the past six months, he had been working at a new hospital.
Or so he told me. It made sense. Doctors moved around for better opportunities, longer hours, and greater fulfillment.
That was all I needed to know. I trusted him. But trust is a fragile thing.
You don’t realize it’s cracking until you hear the first split. It happened at his parents’ house. A warm evening, the smell of my mother-in-law’s famous roast in the air, the table crowded with family.
Laughter, clinking glasses, the easy comfort of familiar company. Nathan’s hand rested on my thigh, a casual, familiar gesture. Safe.
Solid. And then his niece, Allison, spoke. “Uncle Nate, I was hoping to see you at work, but I never do!
Can I visit you at the cardiology unit?” Her voice was light. She was young, fresh out of nursing school, and had landed a job at the hospital where Nathan worked. Nathan didn’t flinch.
“Oh, I move between departments a lot. Hard to pin me down.”
Allison laughed. “Yeah!
You’ve got so many patients at your unit, right?”
“I do, darling.”
“How many, exactly?” she asked, her head tilting in innocent curiosity. “Eighteen patient rooms, right?”
“Yep,” he responded. “Wow, Uncle!
You must be under real stress.” She grinned. “Because then you’d remember—it has twenty-five patient rooms, not eighteen.”
Silence. Nathan’s fingers twitched against my thigh.
The air in the room changed, subtle but undeniable. I felt it in the way his jaw tensed, the way he took a too-casual sip of his wine. Allison, oblivious, kept talking.
“I mean, you must be so busy—I keep running into Dr. Arnold and Dr. Jake, but they said they don’t see you either.”
Nathan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
TAP → NEXT PAGE → 👇
