It was a burst of laughter coming from inside the room.
It was not the weak, pained laughter of a sick man, nor was it the nervous giggle of someone under duress, but rather a relaxed, genuine sound that comes out when a person feels perfectly safe and happy.
I pushed the heavy door open just a few inches.
Theo was standing by the window, wearing a pair of denim jeans and a clean shirt, and his face was flushed with color rather than pale with illness.
He was not hooked up to an intravenous drip, there was no oxygen tank in sight, and he certainly did not look like a man about to undergo an emergency heart procedure.
He had a young woman in his arms, holding her tightly by the waist as if they were sharing a private, romantic moment.
She was a blonde nurse with perfect eyelashes who adjusted his shirt collar with a level of intimate confidence that no professional nurse should ever have with a married patient.
Ingrid was sitting in the corner armchair, calmly sipping a cup of coffee.
When she looked up and saw me standing there, she did not look startled or ashamed in the slightest.
She simply pursed her lips in annoyance, as if I had ruined the mood by arriving a little too early.
The nurse pulled away from him abruptly, but Theo looked at me without a single hint of guilt in his eyes.
That specific detail hurt me more than the rest of the scene, because he did not look sorry at all, he looked annoyed that I was there to witness his deception.
On the bedside table, there were two cups of coffee, a bottle of expensive perfume, and an open medical file with pages that clearly lacked the necessary official stamps.
I looked directly at Ingrid, but she barely managed a fake, tight smile.
“Did you finally bring the money documents, Hazel?” she asked.
In that single, agonizing second, I understood that I had not walked into a hospital room, but into the exact location where my marriage was officially dying.
I could not believe what my eyes were showing me, but I knew in my heart that the worst of this nightmare was still ahead of us.
Chapter 2: The Cracks in the Facade
I did not throw the folder at them, I did not scream like characters in the soap operas, and I did not even shed a single tear.
I stood completely still, my hand still gripping the cold metal of the doorknob, looking at the three of them as if they were complete strangers wearing faces I used to know well.
“Someone needs to explain this to me right now,” I said, my voice sounding hollow and detached.
Theo let out a long, heavy, and irritated sigh.
“Hazel, do not start with the drama right now,” he muttered.
That phrase “do not start” was the sharpest blade he had ever used against me.
For five long months, I had started every single day by calculating money I did not have, selling my furniture, applying for loans, and enduring aggressive phone calls from his mother at every hour of the night.
And yet, there he was, standing, breathing easily, with another woman, telling me not to start a conversation about his betrayal.
“Do not start what exactly?” I asked him, my voice trembling now. “Should I ask why you are walking perfectly fine, or why you are not hooked up to any machines, or perhaps why a nurse is hugging you like you are her boyfriend?”
The young girl looked down at her shoes, embarrassed, while Ingrid defiantly raised her chin.
“Do not cause a massive scene in a hospital of all places,” Ingrid snapped.
I laughed softly, a dry sound with absolutely no humor in it.
“Of course, the problem is me and my reaction to your lies,” I replied.
Theo took a step closer to me, his expression hardened.
