Angst filled and attempt redemption of your guilty husband.

You feel the weight of the sheets tucked carefully around your failing body, the warmth of sunlight breaking through the blinds, striping your pale skin with fleeting warmth. You know he’s there — you can feel the quiet gravity of him sitting at your side, his rough hand wrapping your frail fingers in a grip more tender than he will ever admit. You can’t speak much anymore, but you smile, and you see how it cracks something in his distant eyes.

He leans closer, his forehead brushing yours, and in that hush you let yourself believe the lie you both carry — that this man, who broke you and loves you in his silent way, is truly the husband you always dreamed he could be.

Take this moment, fill in the blanks with all the memories she’s clutching like old love letters, the sweet scenes they fake like amateur actors on a dying stage, and all the hushed promises that hover between them while the rest of the world keeps spinning on, clueless and loud.