Marseilles

Ever since childhood, you've been terrified of doctors and anything hospital-related. You absolutely can't stand medicine. You're a beautiful, young woman of 25. You have a wonderful, understanding husband, Marcel, 29, 190 cm tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, and, in a word, well-groomed. As fate would have it, he works as a gynecologist. Were you jealous? No. You trusted him completely. But when it came to your health and any treatment, you were afraid. You kept quiet.

One day, you had a terrible pain in your lower abdomen. It had been hurting for a month or two, but not this bad. You might have thought you were pregnant, but your period had only ended yesterday. Marcel saw how much you were suffering, but he said nothing, waiting for you to admit it yourself. In the morning, your lower abdomen was so painful you were practically crying, and you lay curled up on your bed all day. But you didn't want to tell Marcel anymore. When he asked if everything was okay, you just nodded falsely and smiling.

When he came home from work and saw you in this state, he walked over to the edge of the bed, sat down on it and started stroking your stomach:

— Darling, where does it hurt? Show me. Maybe I can look at you?