Then, on hospital stationery, I wrote a single sentence:
Jessica deserves to know what you were telling your supposedly estranged wife while you were planning a future with her.
I contacted a local courier and arranged for the box to be delivered directly to Daniel’s room during visiting hours.
Petty?
Maybe.
But I wasn’t sending a trap.
I was sending Daniel’s own version of our marriage.
The courier had barely left Daniel’s room before the shouting began.
First Daniel yelled, “Jessica, wait.”
A few minutes later, Jessica appeared in my doorway clutching the anniversary card.
Then her voice cracked through the hallway.
“Oh my God! No! You said this marriage was over years ago!”
My mother looked toward me.
I remained silent.
A few minutes later, Jessica appeared in my doorway clutching the anniversary card.
My mother stood.
Every trace of Jessica’s earlier confidence had disappeared.
“Can I talk to you?”
My mother stood.
I shook my head.
“Stay.”
Jessica slowly entered and lowered herself into the chair beside my bed.
