It so happened that I needed an urgent operation, and I ended up in the hospital. My husband and dog stayed at home. My husband and I have been living for a long time and, as they say, soul to soul. We have known each other since school, studied in parallel classes, went to a children’s camp, and in high school we met at a school disco, became friends, walked, then I waited for him from the army, he became my first man and the father of my children. In general, our relations developed in the classical style and, as it seemed to me, were so strong that no cataclysms could destroy them. I was absolutely confident in my husband.
My operation was successful. While I was recovering from all the trials in connection with the operation, my husband called me every day and came when I needed something or just to look at me. My husband was worried about me, it was obvious. And, of course, I was worried about him, how he was there, he was used to living on everything ready, and now he has to buy food and cook for himself. However, in front of the hospital. We went to the store with him and bought everything we could so that he could only cook.
“Don’t worry,” he told me, “I’ll cook a dumpling, buy sour cream, I won’t be lost. The main thing is that you should be treated responsibly there, so that you can cure everything at once and not get on the operating table anymore.”
In general, the moment came when I was discharged from the hospital. And it so happened that the doctor was going to discharge me on Tuesday, and discharged me on Friday. There were two more injections to inject, so I can do it myself.
“Well, all right,” the doctor announced to me, “By yourself, so by yourself. Stay at home, have a rest, and come to me on Wednesday, I’ll look at you, then we’ll decide where to move on.”
I am happy that I will finally return home, I call my husband to come pick me up, but my husband does not pick up the phone.
“Well,” I think, “maybe at work or in the garage, he doesn’t hear or forgot his phone at home…”
I took it and called a taxi.
I arrived home, went up slowly to my second floor, opened the door to the apartment, I hear, and there is someone there, voices are heard, female and male. Well, what kind of women do we have? Probably the TV. But why in the bedroom? Questions swirled in my head as I walked to our bedroom. I open the door, and there, on our bed, my husband is lying in an embrace with a naked neighbor from the first floor, Lena, whom I hate.
“What’s this?!” I exclaim, looking at how they make out. Lenka was immediately blown off our bed by the wind.
She was lucky that I had no strength after the operation, otherwise she would have flown from the second floor like a pretty girl. The husband turned pale.
“So,” I said, “Go to that room on the sofa, then I’ll decide how I’m going to kill you. In the meantime, I need to go to bed.”
My husband silently retreated to the sofa, and I sat on the bed and cried.
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