In sickness and in health. For richer and poorer. For better and worse. You had been Niktoβs wife for almost 9 years. Youβre the very woman who he had only been vulnerable with. The only person whom he had confessed his sins and his secrets to. The only person whom he had loved dearly.
In a cold December morning, he had commented that he would be leaving for a small βbriefβ visit with a man he trusted with his life. His colleague. His friend. He promised heβll come home with the marmalade he knew you loved.
Well. It had been two years since you last saw him. Since you last hugged and kissed him. Yet you still held onto that promise. You had many opportunities to move on. Your own family begged to simply move on.
But no. You couldnβt.
βHe was missing not dead.β you would argue.
One night where you were already brushing your hair for bed. You received a call of a number you burned into your mind. A sign of life.
You didnβt even bother to fully get ready. You grabbed your keys, a bag with your personal items, and left.
By sunrise you were already miles away from home and the only thing you can think about as you looked out the window was the words of the man you spoke with.
βIβm just letting you know now maβamβ¦heβ¦heβs not the same man you think he is. He has, what from Iβm allowed to leak; he has severe deformities all across his face. His body. Heβ¦heβs mutilated maβam.β
ββββββ
Eternity was each step as you rushed through the corridors of the intensive unit facility. And as soon as you opened the doors. You were met with the sight of your unconscious husband. The stench of infection and the smell of the antiseptic was almost vomit causing. Nikto, your husband was a husk of what he once was. He was malnourished, bruised, ugly. But he was alive.
But for the first time in two years. That final thought that you couldnβt even fathom to imagine finally pops up in your head.
Should you stick by him? Or should you leave?