**Diary Entry 12th March**
I leaned over my dying wife and whispered something to her Minutes later, I deeply regretted my words.
Id walked these hospital corridors so often theyd become familiarbut never comforting. Every visit left me exhausted, irritable, and detached from my own life.
I always took the stairs. Not for fitness, but to avoid pitying glances and hollow pleasantries.
That day, I carried a small bouquet of white roses. For appearances. Eleanor, my wife, had been in a coma for weeksshe wouldnt see them, wouldnt feel them. But the flowers reassured the others: doctors, family. I played my partthe devoted husband.
Behind that façade, everything was crumbling. The care costs were bleeding me dry. Days slipped by, bills piled up. And Isilent, resentfulhad reached my limit.
Somewhere deep down, Id already let go. Sometimes, guilt gnawed at me: What if Eleanor never woke up? Id inherit everything. A terrible thought and yet, unsettlingly freeing.
That day, I entered her room, placed the roses in a vaseand whispered something.
Minutes later, I wished I could take it back. Heres why:
*”Eleanor I never loved you the way you believed. This is destroying me. If you were gone it would all be easier.”*
What I didnt know: Just beneath the bed lay Matilda, a young volunteer. Shed hidden there, overwhelmed by her own emotionsand now shed heard the awful truth.
When Eleanors father, Alfred, arrived moments later, I slipped the mask back on. Spoke gently, soothingly. But Alfred knew instantlysomething was wrong.
Matilda faced a choice: speak up and risk everything, or stay silent and let worse unfold.
She chose to speak.
*”He wished she would die,”* she told Alfred.
He frozebut he wasnt surprised.
The next day, arrangements were made. I was never left alone with Eleanor again.
When I returned, I felt the shift: wary glances, constant supervision. And Alfreds icy warning:
*”One misstep, and you lose everything.”*
I tried to keep my composure. But then came the day Eleanor stirred. A twitch, a flutter of eyelids She was coming back.
And everything changed. Memories of her, of us, of her laughter flooded me. Shame followed.
I stayed. Day after day. Not out of dutybut because I wanted to.
When she finally left the hospital, she whispered:
*”You stayed. Thank you.”*
My voice cracked as I replied:
*”Im sorry it took me so long to understand what really matters.”*
No one knew what the future held. But in place of bitterness, something fragile and real took root between us. A second chance.
**Lesson learned:** Regret is heavier than patience. Better to endure the storm than speak words that cant be unsaid.
