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When Marcus arrived at the hospital, Madeline had already woken up, her face pale.
He quietly stepped into the room, placing the takeout container on the bedside table.
“You‘ re awake? I brought you some soup,” he said softly. He opened the container, releasing the fragrant steam into the air.
Carefully, he scooped up a spoonful, blew on it gently, and held it up to Madeline‘ s lips.
Madeline parted her lips slightly, allowing him to feed her.
I hovered in the air, watching this scene unfold, a surge of emotions welling up inside me.
Envy, bitterness, and an overwhelming sense of heartache.
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I had once longed for this kind of care and tenderness, only to be let down time and time again by reality.
I thought back to the days when I lay alone in the hospital undergoing chemotherapy. Marcus had no idea.
I was too afraid of burdening his work at the police station, so I faced the pain alone.
Sometimes, when I was hungry, I’d just grab a piece of bread to get by. There was never anything like this.
As I watched Marcus gently care for Madeline, the ache in my heart intensified.
I had once been his wife, the person closest to him, yet this tenderness now belonged to someone else.
After a few spoonfuls of soup, Madeline whispered, “I’m full.”
Marcus took a wet tissue and carefully wiped the corners of her mouth, tucking her blanket in.
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He stood, preparing to leave, but Madeline
grabbed his hand.
“Stay with me until I fall asleep, please,” she said softly, her voice pleading.
Marcus hesitated for a moment, but eventually, he nodded and sat back down.
I stood there, watching their interaction, my emotions in turmoil.
