And Alex remained standing, holding an empty glass, feeling something changing inside him. As if the veil clouding his eyes was beginning to lift, and for the first time in a long time, he saw Olivia not just as a wife, but as the woman he had once loved so much that he couldn’t imagine life without her.
And, perhaps, still loved.
The next morning, Alex woke up alone. A note lay on the table.
«Went out for errands. Be back in the evening. Love.
Olivia.»
He couldn’t wait for the evening. He wanted to hug her, say «forgive me, you’re my home, I want to start over.»
But Olivia didn’t return. Not in the evening, not in the morning.
Closer to noon, the hospital called.
«Are you Alex Thompson? Your wife was admitted for a scheduled operation, oncology. Unfortunately, we couldn’t save her.»
He stood with the phone in his hands, not believing.
The world collapsed. It turned out she knew. She knew she was leaving.
And didn’t say a word, so he wouldn’t feel guilty.
Everyone came to the funeral – colleagues, neighbors, friends. Even his mother cried, pressing a photo of her daughter-in-law to her chest.
And Alex sat on a bench by the house, looked at the sky, and whispered «I didn’t make it, Olivia, forgive me, you were everything, and I understood when nothing could be brought back.»
Обсуждение закрыто.