7
648words
We slipped back into our old happiness.
Talking endlessly.
Reminiscing constantly.
Bella kept texting him the whole time.
When he didn’t reply, she called.
He didn’t answer.
We were like newlyweds again.
Curled up in bed reading the same book.
Taking walks in the hospital garden.
The only time we were apart was when he went home to cook gentle, stomach-friendly meals and oatmeal for me.
The food was simple and mild, exactly how I liked it.
Even when I felt much better, he still treated me like a patient,
insisting on feeding me himself.
Insisted on feeding me himself.
When a nurse came to change my IV.
She gave us a knowing look.
My ears burned.
Alexander just grinned. "Marital perks."
Those days in the hospital were blissful.
But the day before I was due for discharge.
Alexander, who always arrived promptly at noon with lunch, was over two hours late.
Worried something had happened.
I called and texted him repeatedly.
No response. Like stones dropped into the sea.
I was frantic, ready to check out early.
The nurse calmed me down:
"It’s only been an hour? He probably got held up. Just wait a bit longer; you still have IVs today."
"Married that long and still so lovey-dovey? Impressive. My husband and I were like that at first, glued together. Now… sleep on opposite sides of the bed, don’t even touch."
When Alexander finally showed up, face wrapped in a scarf, carrying the thermos.
My anxious heart settled.
The nurse couldn’t resist teasing, "You wouldn’t believe how worried your wife was when you were late!"
The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile.
He took my hand naturally as we walked back to the room. "Sorry, phone died. Plus, some work stuff came up. I’ll make sure it’s charged next time."
I squeezed his hand. "It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re alright."
I was almost discharged.
He still insisted on feeding me.
But the moment the oatmeal touched my lips.
I paused.
He blinked. "What’s wrong?"
I kept my voice casual. "You must be exhausted, handling work and cooking for me today."
A flicker of discomfort crossed his face, gone in an instant. "Cooking for someone you love is never a chore."
My heart plummeted.
I’d eaten his oatmeal countless times. He never added seasoning to mine.
This time, it tasted heavily seasoned.
The other dishes too.
Same ingredients, but the flavors were much stronger than the bland versions he’d been making since I got sick.
His cooking style doesn’t change overnight.
He lied. This wasn’t his cooking.
Combined with his lateness today.
A terrible suspicion took root.
While he was washing the dishes in the bathroom.
I glanced at his phone on the bedside table.
It wasn’t dead, like he’d claimed. It showed over 90% charge.
Suddenly, a notification popped up:
"Thanks for lunch today, Alex! Hope I get to taste your cooking again sometime? "
A lump lodged in my throat.
Remembering something, I grabbed my own phone, pulled up Bella’s social media.
Half an hour ago, she’d posted:
The squeaky wheel gets the grease... and the yummy food! #Blessed
Accompanied by pictures of oatmeal and home-style dishes.
And one subtly angled photo, a man’s hand visible in the corner – a familiar ring glinting on the ring finger.
The ring I had hunted for across countless cities while following him on shoots, finally choosing the one I thought suited him best.
The last photo showed empty plates.
He’d said earlier, "Cooking for someone you love is never a chore."
I couldn’t tell anymore who that "someone" was supposed to be – me, or Bella.
My heart felt hollow, gaping open.
Crows cawed mockingly outside the window.
As if laughing at me for being the fool.
My mind was chaos.
Should I confront him directly?
Or pretend nothing happened?
