I nodded.
He placed the papers on the side table.
“There is one more thing you should know.”
I looked at him.
“The private room had already been assigned.”
My stomach dropped.
“To her?”
He nodded.
“She was expected to arrive later that day.”
I stared at the papers.
So it had been planned.
Not a sudden favor.
Not a misunderstanding.
Not something my husband had decided in a panic.
They had expected me to be gone.
The room had been arranged for someone else before anyone had asked me whether I agreed to leave.
I thought about the torn hospital gown.
The blood around my reopened IV.
My mother-in-law telling strangers I was mentally unstable.
My husband’s hand covering my mouth.
And the way he had kept repeating that we could discuss the room later.
As if the room were the only thing that mattered.
The consultant came in again.
