Instead, she drove straight toward my parents’ house.
Confusion replaced anger.
I parked a block away and crept closer, hiding behind a tree.
My younger brother stepped outside, and they exchanged some quiet words.
After that, he led her inside.
My chest tightened—what could they possibly be hiding from me?
I rushed to the window and peered through a small gap in the curtains.
Inside, I saw my father lying in a hospital bed we’d set up in the living room.
His face was pale, his breaths shallow. My wife was by his side, gently adjusting his blanket while my brother prepared medication. T
ears stung my eyes when the truth hit me—my father’s health had been declining rapidly, and they hadn’t told me.
My wife hadn’t been sneaking out for herself; she’d been sacrificing her sleep, caring for my dad so I wouldn’t worry, while my brother worked late shifts.
Continued on next page//
