The Night Before Our Divorce, My Husband Crawled Into Bed and Said, “One Last Time”, Then Everything Changed

The Last Walk

I was stunned. What became of my husband’s girlfriend?

I returned back to the house with heavy steps where my husband was waiting. My husband appeared to have anticipated my questioning the doctor and greeted me with a smile.

“You’re back.”

I couldn’t live without my husband, so I asked him to let me spend the night. My husband’s house was only a few pieces of luggage and a couple of futons.

It was the first time I’d slept with my husband since we discussed divorce. As I cuddled up under the covers with my husband, we told each other how we got here.

I was eager to ask about his illness, but I decided that it wasn’t time to talk about painful topics, so we reminisced. This was also due to my feelings about his relationship with her.

I asked him if he hadn’t brought her to the island before I asked to stay, but he just laughed and covered up the fact that he didn’t say anything, which suggested that there was a sad event. I was careful not to hurt his feelings by asking any more questions.

The next day, I informed my employer of what had occurred and decided to take some time off. I want to spend what time my husband had with him.

I took my husband, who couldn’t walk very far, around the island in a wheelchair. There were places I remembered from my previous visit—places and scenery I wanted to show him for the first time.

It was satisfying just being together. I wish we’d been this close when we were married.

Even after my divorce, I discovered that the feelings I had grew stronger, but there’s nothing I could do about it now. My husband will be confused if I told him; like friends, I would stay by his side.

The good times were fleeting, but the disease was gradually taking its toll on my husband. His physical strength had deteriorated to the point where he could no longer go out or even take the long-awaited walks.

Even daily tasks became difficult and he began to doze off and fall asleep more frequently. The doctor came to see him every day, but the only relief was that he was no longer in pain.

I couldn’t believe that this was natural and that he would leave me so soon. I nursed my husband, never leaving his side for a second so he wouldn’t be alone when he awoke, which could happen at any time.

Sometimes he’d wake up and tell me the rest of the dream he just awoke from, and other times he’d tell me about long-ago memories as if they just happened. I loved every moment, and this love exacerbated my sadness.

Letters From the Past

My husband gradually stopped waking up after that. When we stopped talking, I stayed by his side reading his favorite books and telling him about the sights and sounds I’d missed so he could understand.

I wanted to tell him about a beautiful sunset one day, so I held his hand and tried to speak to him. My husband’s hand was cold to the touch.

He was barely breathing and his chest moved in an unnatural way. I panicked and called the doctor, who said he will be there right away.

I waited for him feeling as if my heart was being ripped out of my chest by the out-of-control situation. I hoped it was a misunderstanding.

I want him to reassure me that everything will be fine. However, when the doctor arrived, he took a look and said:

“His blood pressure has already dropped quite a bit. Let him go in peace. I believe he wants you to stay with him, so I’ll sit this one out. Don’t worry, I’ll be right there if anything happens, so please stay by his side.”

The doctor then said goodbye to my husband and walked out. So the time has come.

I knew it would come, but it was unbearable.

“I was delighted to have met you. There were some challenges, but the truth is that I adore you.”

I held my husband’s hand and whispered in his ear. Then my husband gently squeezed my hand back.

It was medically impossible, but I clearly felt it. Soon after, he took his last breath and died quietly.

I couldn’t stop crying, but I was glad to have been there for him at the end. I was so busy after he had died that I didn’t have time to mourn until after the burial.

When I finally got home after cleaning up my husband’s belongings, I noticed that mail had accumulated like a mountain. I was struck by the nostalgic handwriting I discovered as I went through them one by one.

My husband had written dozens of letters. I wondered how long it had been since I had spent every day with him trying to keep as close to him as possible.

His letter started on the day of our reunion. My husband had moved here in the hope of seeing me again, but he didn’t expect to actually find me here.

It was difficult for him not to notice how surprised and delighted he was. It read that he couldn’t stop laughing at how funny his letters were, and the fact that my husband felt that way was the best compliment he could have given me.

A date and a letter indicated that he had been posting it every day, but his handwriting became more dirty and the length of the letter became shorter as the days passed, clearly demonstrating the progression of his illness. With sadness I continued reading, but my eyes stopped at one point.

He had written the truth about our divorce. My husband’s illness started during our marriage.