I Spent Nearly Two Weeks Recovering From Surgery and My Husband Never Visited Once—Then I Came Home and Froze at the Front Door

We drank.

PART 70 — THE FRONT DOOR

Sometimes I still remember standing at the threshold after discharge.

Hospital bag in one hand.

Pain medication in my purse.

Prepared to discover betrayal.

Then yellow walls.

Light.

Shelves.

The house I had imagined.