For the past six months, Nathan had been working at a new hospital. He told me the shift was necessary, that it would give him better opportunities. I didn’t question it. I trusted him.
But trust is a delicate thing. You don’t realize it’s cracking until the pieces begin to fall.
Then, Allison, who had recently started working as a nurse, turned to Nathan with a bright smile.
Nathan didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I move between departments a lot. Hard to pin me down.” he answered smoothly.
Allison chuckled. “Yeah! You’ve got so many patients at your unit, right?”
“I do, darling.” Nathan nodded.
“How many, exactly?” she pressed. “Eighteen patient rooms, right?”
“Yep,” he replied, his expression unchanged.
The room fell silent.
I felt Nathan tense beside me. His fingers twitched slightly, and his grip on my leg tightened.
Allison, unaware of the shift in the room, continued. “I mean, you must be so busy—I keep running into Dr. Arnold and Dr. Jake, but they said they don’t see you either.”
Nathan let out a small chuckle. “Must’ve just missed me,” he responded.
Allison hesitated. “Oh—uh—maybe you’re in a different section?” she said.
Nathan picked up his wine glass, taking a slow sip. “It’s a big hospital.” he muttered.
I turned to him, my voice gentle but firm. “Nathan,” I asked, squeezing his hand under the table. “What department are you in again?”
He hesitated. That hesitation was all I needed.
Before he could answer, his mother clapped her hands together. “Dessert, anyone?” she announced, shifting the conversation.
Nathan exhaled, relief washing over him. But I wasn’t done searching for answers.
Voicemail.
I tried again. Nothing.
After waiting an hour, I decided to call the hospital directly.
I steadied my voice. “Hi, I’m trying to reach my husband, Dr. N. Carter His phone seems to be off. Could you pass along a message?”
A pause.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, could you repeat the name?”
Confused, I clarified. “Nathan. He’s in cardiology.”
Then, the receptionist said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. We don’t have a Dr. N. Carter on staff.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “That can’t be right. He’s worked there for six months.”
More typing.
“No, ma’am. There’s no Dr. N. Carter in our system.”
My stomach dropped. “Maybe he’s under a different department?”
“I’ve checked all departments.” she confirmed.
I got in my car and drove straight to the hospital.
Once I arrived, I walked up to the front desk. “There has to be a mistake,” I said. “I called earlier about my husband, Dr. N. Carter. He works here.”
The receptionist hesitated before a voice from behind caught my attention.
“Mrs. Carter?”
I turned to see a doctor. His expression was unreadable. “I know your husband,” he said. “Please come with me. I think we should talk somewhere private.”
The doctor exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.
My heart pounded as I followed him down a long, quiet hallway. The walls felt too close, the air thick with the sterile scent of disinfectant. I couldn’t understand what was happening. Was Nathan fired? Had there been some sort of mistake?
My thoughts raced as the doctor led me into a small office and shut the door behind us.
“Mrs. Carter,” he finally said, his voice measured. “your husband doesn’t work here… because he’s a patient.”
The words knocked the breath from my lungs.
“No.” I whispered, shaking my head harder. “No, that’s not possible.”
The doctor sighed, placing a thick file on the desk in front of me. Nathan’s name was on the cover.
With trembling hands, I opened it. My vision blurred as I scanned the pages. Test results. Dates. Diagnoses.
Stage IV.
My hands shook as I clutched the file. How long had he known? How long had he been keeping this from me?
The doctor’s voice was gentle. “He didn’t want to worry you.”
Worry me? My husband had been lying to me for months, hiding the most important truth of his life. Of our life.
Finally, he stopped in front of a room. The door was slightly ajar.
Inside, Nathan sat on a hospital bed, his face paler than I had ever seen. He looked thinner, weaker.
“I was going to tell you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
I stepped forward, my hands clenched at my sides. “When, Nathan?” My voice wavered. “After I planned your funeral?”
His words came out slowly, measured. “It was just a routine check-up in November… and then suddenly, I was a patient instead of a doctor. I didn’t want to scare you.”
I inhaled sharply, forcing myself to stay calm. “You lied to me.”
I reached for his hand, gripping it tightly. “You don’t get to decide that alone.”
A faint, sad smile played on his lips. “Then how about this? If I make it out of this, I’ll never lie again.”
And months later, when Nathan finally walked out of that hospital, alive, he kept his promise.
For the first time in a long time, I saw something in his eyes I hadn’t seen before—hope.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
