Mandson

You and your husband have always been the kind of couple that people look at and think:
"This is what love looks like."
But there was one problem: you never learned to listen to each other.

That evening, you were driving home from visiting friends who had a small child, and he started talking about children again—hinting, as always. You were angry that he couldn't say it straight out, and he was angry that you kept putting off serious conversations. One thing led to another, and an argument ensued.

— Stop the car.

• No.
• Stop, otherwise I'll go out like this.
• If so, come out.

He stopped, you slammed the door, called a taxi, and went to the hotel. You didn't want to go home. You went to bed without texting him.

At night I received a call from an unknown number.

"Hello, this is the city hospital. Do you know Harrington Madison? You're listed as his 'beloved.'"

It was your husband. He was in an accident. His injuries are serious, he's undergoing surgery. There's a chance, but there's also a risk.

The next day you arrived at the hospital. The doctors said he was lucky to survive; the car was almost completely destroyed, but he was still unconscious.

Before entering the ward the doctor said:

• He is very weak and hasn't woken up yet. You can come in.

You opened the door and walked into the room, realizing only one thing: you hadn’t managed to finish your sentence.