After examining Emily, the doctor made notes in her chart and said:
— Emily Anne, please take care of yourself. Next time, we might not make it in time. Here’s a list of medications, how to take them, and the necessary prescriptions. Make sure to buy them today and start treatment as soon as possible. Well… Wishing you a speedy recovery!
Casting a sidelong glance at her husband, who stood by the window with a crooked smirk, the doctor stepped into the hallway:
— No need to see me out; I’ll close the door myself.
The lock clicked, and James, Emily’s husband, immediately spoke up:
— More trouble with you. This is the second time this month we’ve had to call a doctor. Maybe it’s time you checked into a hospital? I could use a break. I’m stuck here with you like I’m chained.
Her husband’s words stung Emily’s pride, but she didn’t respond in kind. Instead, she gave a gentle smile and whispered softly:
— Be patient, James. It’ll pass soon. I’ve just been a bit stressed. You know my job is nerve-wracking.
Sighing as if he were being forced into something, James replied:
— Fine, hand me the prescription. I’ll go to the pharmacy myself. And stop stressing, so I don’t have to call the doctor again.
Slamming the door behind him, James hurried down the stairs and headed toward the pharmacy. Meanwhile, Emily’s phone rang—it was her mother:
— Sweetheart, tell me the truth. Did you and James have another fight? Is he the reason your blood pressure’s up?
Unsure how to respond, Emily said the first thing that came to mind:
— No, it’s all because of work. I need to take some time off and rest, or my heart won’t hold out.
Emily was the manager of a glassware factory. The complex production process and responsibility for hundreds of workers came with daily stress. Outdated equipment from decades past frequently broke down, but the higher-ups didn’t care. Their priority was meeting orders and turning a profit at any cost. Emily worked herself to the bone, and eventually, her nervous system gave out, causing a health crisis.
Lately, her blood pressure had been spiking to dangerous levels more often. Her bosses noticed and even offered her some time off, but Emily refused. She couldn’t forget the loan she’d taken out a year ago to renovate their apartment. James hadn’t lifted a finger to help, claiming his salary was too small and he wanted nothing to do with loans. So, the entire burden of the payments fell on her shoulders. She recalled her mother’s warning:
— You shouldn’t have done this, darling. The renovation could’ve waited, but your health will slip away before you know it.
Her mother’s caution wasn’t unfounded, but Emily ignored it and took on the debt. The only comfort was that less than a year of payments remained. But James’s behavior was troubling—he seemed to resent sacrificing any part of their budget. It felt as though Emily was taking money straight out of his pocket. When he went to the pharmacy, it looked like he was parting with his last dime. Emily considered refusing his help but decided to let him contribute this time. Half an hour later, the lock clicked again, and James’s voice rang out:
— You still alive in there?
The nerve to ask his wife such a question. Emily responded:
— I’m fine, dear. Feeling better already. I’ll probably go back to work in a couple of days. I don’t want my bosses suffering because of me.
Hearing that his wife would return to the factory, James softened a bit:
— That’s the spirit. We really need the money right now.
There was that sarcasm again, but Emily let it slide. She didn’t want to start a fight over nothing. Getting up from the couch, she shakily made her way to the bathroom:
— I’ll take a shower, and then we’ll have dinner.
James tossed the medications onto the table:
— Here’s your pills. Figure out how to take them later.
In the kitchen, dishes clattered, and Emily realized James, as usual, was sitting at the table, waiting to be served. After her shower, she nearly collapsed but, summoning her remaining strength, leaned against the wall and caught her breath.
After dinner, Emily returned to the bedroom and took the pills the doctor prescribed. But the pounding headache wouldn’t relent. All she wanted was to close her eyes and fall asleep. Just then, James approached from behind, wrapping his arms around her like a sly fox, and cooed:
— So, my queen, ready for some love?
Emily pushed him away sharply:
— Have you no shame? My blood pressure’s 180 over 100, and that’s all you can think about?
James clearly didn’t like this reaction, and Emily, looking into his face, braced for a major argument, certain another emotional breakdown was inevitable. But instead, he stepped back calmly, lowered his head, and said:
— Fine, I’m a reasonable man. I won’t push you. Get to bed. I need to head to the garage. Mike asked me to help with his engine yesterday, and I haven’t gotten around to it. If I’m late, don’t wait up.
And just like that, a rift formed between them, as it often does in such moments. Over what? His wife couldn’t meet his demands tonight. She needed rest—hadn’t the doctor said as much? Love could wait; her health was what mattered. But James seemed to have other priorities. One could only guess why he suddenly needed to go to the garage. Emily didn’t stop him:
— Alright, go. Just don’t forget your keys. I might not hear the doorbell.
James grabbed his jacket, slipped on his shoes, and left, slamming the door loudly. This time, they avoided a fight in the calmest way possible: Emily dulled her pain with medication, while James went off to vent to his buddies. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this. He was especially bitter when he once had to cover a loan payment. Emily hadn’t had enough money, so she asked him to chip in. The look on his face when she mentioned the amount was unforgettable. His reproach came swiftly:
— You could’ve borrowed from relatives. Now I have to save up for car parts again.
That’s right—his car was more important than their family’s well-being. It wasn’t even about the renovation Emily had started. Lately, James acted like he was just a guest in their home.
…Shining a flashlight, James waved and whistled cheerfully:
— Here I am, boys. Hope everything’s ready.
His drinking buddies in the garage poured him a hefty shot. Without flinching, he downed the full glass and plopped onto an old couch, grinning like a satisfied cat:
— Now that’s more like it. I’m so fed up with her. She started this damn renovation, and I come home exhausted from work, just wanting to rest. But no—she’s got me painting this, gluing that. Ugh. I’d have divorced her ages ago, but it’s her apartment. Where would I live? I’d show her who’s boss, but her mom’s too nosy.
One of his pals slid closer:
— Listen, James, here’s the deal, but keep it quiet.
What they whispered about was anyone’s guess, but by the end, James was riled up. He didn’t calm down until he’d downed another glass. Heaven knows what advice he got. Pumped up, he started tinkering with the engine—after all, that’s why he came.
As for Emily, the medication finally helped her drift off, but her sleep was plagued by nightmares. Tossing and turning, she tried to quell her inner turmoil. With effort, she managed not to startle awake, though her hands trembled slightly. At 2:30 a.m., the apartment door creaked open. James, leaning against the wall, stumbled in his shoes straight to the kitchen. A porcelain mug clinked, followed by the sound of running water. After a few gulps, he dropped the mug on the floor and staggered into the bedroom like a drunken bear. He misjudged his balance, crashed to the floor, and didn’t have the strength to get up. He stayed there until morning, then called his boss to take a day off.
At noon, Emily’s mother arrived. Seeing her son-in-law’s disheveled face, she grimaced and said:
— Typical James, good for nothing else. He’d be better off going to work—might sober up faster.
His response was predictably cliché:
— Don’t tell me what to do, and you know the rest.
Amid this upheaval, Emily’s blood pressure spiked again. This time, it was serious, and she had to be taken to the hospital. Grumbling about having to deal with doctors again, James helped the paramedics carry the stretcher downstairs and load his wife into the ambulance. He reeked of alcohol, but the medics tried to ignore it. They genuinely pitied Emily for having such a callous husband.
At the hospital, they were met by the same doctor who’d visited their home:
— So, my warnings didn’t help. Take her to the ward for now; I’ll be there soon.
James jumped in front of the doctor:
— What’s that supposed to mean? Why a ward? A few shots would do, and we can treat her at home.
Ignoring his protests, the doctor continued giving orders to the staff. They buzzed around like ants, each doing their job. Feeling dismissed, James stormed outside and cursed loudly. A nearby patient overheard:
— What’s got you so worked up? This isn’t a nightclub!
Recognizing a familiar word, James smirked:
— Oh, you like to party? There’s a store nearby. Want to grab a quick drink?
Oddly enough, the patient, a fellow drinker, agreed eagerly. Half an hour later, they were discreetly sipping under two birch trees. James boasted about his devotion to his wife:
— I even came with her myself so she wouldn’t be alone.
The man introduced himself as Mark:
— Yeah, I saw how you ‘took care’ of her. Good job, man. Me? Hardly anyone visits.
Drunk on liquor, James considered marching to the admissions desk to demand why Mark’s family wasn’t visiting. But Mark, though tipsy, still had some sense of where he was. He stopped James:
— Don’t go there. The doctors will get mad, and then we’ll get no leeway.
After finishing the bottle, James headed to the taxi stand near the hospital. The doctor saw this from a window, shaking his head in dismay. He didn’t tell Emily, not wanting to upset her in her fragile state.
Emily was examined again, and a preliminary diagnosis was made. The symptoms suggested progressing heart failure. The doctor barely left her bedside that night, checking her blood pressure and monitoring her breathing.
Meanwhile, James continued what he thought was drowning his sorrows—a “personal tragedy.” Shockingly, he felt no remorse, as if his wife were a stranger. Worse, a dark thought crept in: “It’d be great if she didn’t come back.” If not for the marriage certificate, you’d think they were just roommates.
After morning rounds, Emily’s mother arrived:
— Good Lord, darling, what have we done to deserve this? I knew you’d end up here again. Tell me, where’s that deadbeat?
Emily adjusted her pillow and whispered:
— I don’t know. He brought me here and hasn’t shown up since. Probably at home, took a day off, and skipped work. You know how he loves his midweek breaks.
Her mother nodded, her voice heavy with sadness:
— Don’t I know it. I’m fed up with that son-in-law. I don’t get why you stick with him.
Emily wasn’t in the mood to discuss her husband:
— Enough, Mom. Tell me about Sarah instead. It’s been a while since my sister called. What’s up—another new boyfriend?
Seeing a smile on her daughter’s face, Margaret Anne softened:
— Oh, darling, if only I had her problems, I wouldn’t worry so much.
The doctor entered, and her mother stepped outside. She overheard him scolding Emily for neglecting her health.
James didn’t show up all day and only graced his wife with his presence that evening. But just then, Emily took a turn for the worse. The nurses shooed him out to the hallway:
— Stay out while we perform the necessary procedures.
With a crooked smirk, James sat on a bench and closed his eyes for a few minutes. Finally, the medics emerged:
— She’s asleep. Go home.
But James was insistent:
— I won’t sleep soundly until I spend a moment with my beloved wife.
The nurse took pity and said:
— Fine, but make it quick before the doctor sees.
Slipping in like a mouse, James quietly shut the door. In his haste, he didn’t notice the doctor approaching. Sitting on the edge of Emily’s bed, James picked up her mug and began pouring something from a small glass bottle.
The doctor peeked in and froze: a murky liquid was trickling into Emily’s mug. In a flash, he lunged to the bed, snatched the mug from James’s hands, and dumped its contents on the floor. The paint hissed, bubbled, and left a black stain. James paled when he saw the doctor:
— What? I was just pouring water for my wife. She might get thirsty, and you’re not around.
Pointing at the floor, the doctor barely contained his rage:
— You call that water? What was in that bottle?
Red as a lobster, James backed out of the room, but an on-duty anesthesiologist from surgery appeared just in time. Assessing the situation, he grabbed James and escorted him to the hallway.
There, James waited for the police. When they took him away in handcuffs, it came to light that he’d poured a potent acidic reagent into the mug. Later, they identified the substance, confirming James had intended to kill his wife.
When Emily regained consciousness and learned what her husband had tried to do, she broke down in tears. She could never have imagined James would go to such lengths to get rid of her and claim the apartment.
Neither during the investigation nor at the trial did James clearly explain why he wanted to end his wife’s life.
Two weeks later, Emily was discharged and resolved to divorce him. With help, she succeeded, especially since James was under investigation. In gratitude, she visited the doctor who’d saved her and expressed her heartfelt thanks. Emily’s health improved significantly. Now, the doctor visits her more often, and there seems to be a spark of mutual affection. It’s possible this could mark the beginning of a new, sincere, and lasting relationship.
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