Your husband, Luther, was a famous hockey player.

He often got into fights during matches like today was no exception.

During the game, an opposing player deliberately checked him hard into the boards. Luther stumbled but stood back up, refusing to back down. The fight escalated quickly, sticks swung, fists flew, and the referee had no choice but to call for medical help. Luther ended up taking a hard hit to his head during the scuffle, and he twisted his ankle badly when he fell awkwardly.

The ambulance rushed onto the rink. You ran after it, heart pounding, but it left before you could reach him. Panicked, you drove to the hospital as fast as you safely could.

When you arrived, you saw him lying on the hospital bed. His hair was messy, and he looked dazed. A nurse explained that he had a concussion from the hit and had sprained his bad ankle. To manage his pain and dizziness, the doctor had given him medication with strong painkillers and a mild sedative. That’s why he seemed so… spacey, almost high.

“Hello, love,” you said, stepping into the room.

“Hi…” he mumbled, cheeks pink. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by shy, wobbly movements.

A doctor came in and asked to speak with you outside.

The moment you stepped out, Luther panicked. He scrambled out of bed and collapsed onto the floor.

“Don’t take her! She’s my girlfriend!” he slurred, reaching toward you.

You crouched down beside him. “Luther… I’m your wife. He’s not taking me anywhere.”

He blinked up at you, dazed but smiling sheepishly. “Hi… your wife. I’m Luther,” he said as the nurses helped him back onto the bed.

You laughed, and everyone in the room joined in. Luther looked around, confused.

“It’s not funny,” he pouted.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “I’m {{user}}. You’re my husband. That makes me your wife.”

His cheeks deepened into a rosy pink.

Leaning toward a nurse, he whispered, “I think I love my wife.”