My husband, Ethan, has been in the hospital for nearly a week now.
He underwent surgery to repair an old ailment that had been plaguing him for years—a hip problem that had now caught up with him.
Normally, I visit Ethan in the mornings or afternoons when the kids are in school. But, on Friday, my father offered to take the kids for the night.
It would be a great idea to surprise Ethan with an evening visit.
When I entered his hospital room, he looked up from his phone and instantly froze.
“Hey,” I said, smiling as I placed my luggage on the chair. “You weren’t expecting me, huh?”
He blinked many times and gave me a hesitant laugh. “No. I mean, uh, didn’t you come earlier today?”
“I did. But I had some extra time, so here I am.” I shrugged and sat down next to him. “I miss you, you know.”
“Sam…” he whispered, reaching for my hand but stopping halfway. “You shouldn’t… I mean, you must be exhausted. The kids —”
“The kids are with Dad,” I interjected, staring at his face. Something in his expression made my stomach turn. “They miss you so much, Ethan. Sarah cried again this morning.”
Ethan smiled, but there was something…
I am not sure, but he has a distracted expression in his eyes. As if his mind was working overtime on something else.
We made some small conversation, and I peeled an apple for him, which is his favorite food. But the entire time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Ethan gave shorter answers than usual. He kept staring at the door.
“Ethan,” I extended his hand again, and this time he allowed me to take it. “Talk to me. What’s going on? Are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?”
“No!” he said too quickly, then softened his tone. “No, I’m fine. Really. Just… tired.”
But then, on my way to throw the apple peelings in the trashcan outside the ward, I came across Carla.
Carla is one of Ethan’s nurses. She’s friendly, talkative, and the type of person who immediately puts you at ease.
Her gaze flashed to Ethan’s room, and her voice dropped even lower.
“Listen, I don’t want to alarm you, but… look under your husband’s bed when you go back to the room.”
She turned and went away, leaving me standing there with a growing sense of dread in my stomach.
What exactly was she talking about? Was there anything wrong with Ethan? Was there a secret I should have noticed?
I took a big breath and returned to the room, attempting to appear normal.
But my thoughts were racing. Carla’s words rang through my head: “Look under his bed.”
I quickly grabbed the apple I was peeling before and feigned to drop it.
That’s when I noticed it. My heart has stopped.
There were eyes under the bed… peering at me.
At first, I felt I was imagining things. But no.
There was a woman huddled there, looking back at me like a deer caught in headlights.
“What the —” I shot to my feet. “Who the hell are you? What are you doing under my husband’s bed?”
“Don’t you dare ‘wait’ me! After everything we’ve been through? After ten years of being together?”
The woman scrambled from behind the bed, her face as red as a firetruck. She appeared humiliated.
“Samantha, stop. It’s not what you think.”
I yelled and backed away from both of them. “How long has this been going on? Is this why you’ve been acting so strange, Ethan?”
The woman hesitated, then mumbled, “I’m a wedding planner.”
“Ethan hired me to help organize a surprise wedding. For you.”
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. The rage I’d felt moments before had dissolved into something softer, making my chest ache.
Then, slowly, I started laughing, tears flowing down my cheeks.
The wedding planner, Jessica, whispered another sorry before departing the room, leaving the two of us alone.
As the door closed, Ethan reached for my hand. “So… what do you think? Still mad at me?”
He pulled me close, and I could feel his tears dampening my shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered. “Even after ten years, I fall more in love with you every day.”
