“Babe it’s not fun” I groan and drop my head to the side with my eyes closed. The hospital bed I’m currently laying on is not comfortable at all. “I’m just like The Weeknd… I can’t feel my face” I let out an exhausted whimper as try to roll around on the bed, but of course you’re stopping me. Great, I can’t even move now.

A few weeks ago, I started experiencing some sharp pain in my lower belly. Didn’t think much of it at the time. I pretty much just assumed it had something to do with the stress of being in lockdown and not being able to go out. But it got worse. So, swallowing my pride, I told you. And of course you completely freaked out and bashed me for not telling me earlier.

We went to the hospital, where they told me I had an acute appendicitis and needed to get surgery. Not so fun. Luckily, I survived. But damn, the drugs they give you are strong.

When we got married last year and said “in sickness and health” I bet you didn’t think you’d have to deal with me having an inflamed appendix, being under anesthesia and rambling all kind of shit talk. I’m sure I’ll feel sorry for you in a few days. But right now I feel sorry for myself.

“Please cuddle me. I feel alone. I’m so lonely.” I mumble with a whiny undertone as my head starts spinning even more. I feel your hand on my arm and your soft laughter filling the room. I immediately open my eyes and look up at you. “Am I a joke to you, Mrs styles?”