My husband didn’t argue. That silence somehow made me angrier.
Without another word, I packed a bag and went to stay with my sister.
For illustrative purposes only
I expected my phone to ring within a few days. Maybe my husband would beg. Maybe the doctors would call again to pressure me. Maybe someone would tell me I was heartless.
But nothing happened.
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No calls.
No texts.
Just silence.
I told myself that meant they had figured something else out. Maybe another donor had been found. Maybe the doctors were trying new treatments. Maybe my husband was too busy at the hospital to deal with me.
Two weeks passed before guilt finally pushed me to drive home.
I told myself I was just checking in.
Just seeing how things were going.
But the moment I stepped inside the house, my stomach dropped.
The living room walls were covered in drawings.
