While I Was Dying, He Was Texting His Intern

I woke in the middle of the night with a severe allergic reaction. My throat was swelling shut, so I grabbed my phone and called my husband, who was a doctor.

Bertram Delgado：“Hello?”

He never picked up during night shifts. The fact that the call connected instantly caught me off guard.

A wave of warmth spread through my chest.

“Honey, I'm having an allergic reaction. Can you……”

Before I could finish, a woman's voice cut in. Sybilla Dickerson, his intern：

“Ha ha, gotcha! The call hasn't actually gone through yet~ Dr. Delgado is busy, so please try again later~”

The line rang over a dozen times before he finally picked up.

“I'm on night shift. Whatever it is, we'll talk when I get home. Hanging up.”

My throat was too swollen to form words,

but he didn't give me the chance to try.

All that was left was the flat, steady beeping of the dial tone, each pulse hammering against my eardrums.

I called back. His phone was off.

The allergy medication I'd taken wasn't helping. If anything, the tightness in my chest was getting worse, each breath shallower than the last.

I forced my eyes open and dialed 911.

But I couldn't get the address out,

and as the dispatcher kept asking, frantic, the phone slipped from my hand.

In the last second before everything went dark,

I thought,

if I survive this,

Bertram and I

are done.

Strangers from here on out.

——

When my eyes opened again,

Maura Thomas's panicked face hovered above me.

“Jem, you're finally awake! I nearly had a heart attack when the hospital called me yesterday!”

“Do you have any idea? You went into full anaphylactic shock. They spent six hours bringing you back!”

“You've been out for two days!”

I wanted to reassure her,

but when I tried to smile, my lips and face were completely numb.

I looked around the room.

Four beds.

Only me and an older woman across the way.

No sign of Bertram.

“Don't bother looking. He never showed up.” Maura's voice was clipped.

I pushed myself upright and found my phone.

One message from him. Just one.

Not asking where I'd gone or why I hadn't been home.

Four cold words：“Business trip. One week.”

No discussion.

Just a notice.

I hesitated, then typed back：“I had an allergic reaction.”

“Take something.”

“What if I'm in the hospital?”

“Don't make a big deal out of it. There's medicine at home.”

The answer I expected. It still made my eyes sting.

I swallowed hard, pushing down the last scrap of hope along with the lump in my throat.

Three days in the hospital and I was well enough to sit up,

so I sent Maura back to work.

Around noon I went to pick up my delivery order, and the nurses at the station were whispering to each other.

“Hey, have you seen the couple in the private room across the hall, 502? They look like movie stars.”

“And they're not just good-looking, they're adorable together. It's just a regular allergic reaction, but her boyfriend pulled strings to get the deputy chief to run her allergy panel himself.”

A bleak feeling settled over me.

There was a time when Bertram had been just as protective of me.

The first time I had a serious reaction, he sat by my bed for an entire day and night.

However many hours I went without food or water, he went without them too.

He'd never been one to show emotion, but that night he broke down and held me, crying：

“Jem, you're the only family I have. Don't leave me.”

But this time, all I got was“take something.”

The fiercer the love once burned, the colder the ash it left behind.

I grabbed my food and turned to go,

but a careless glance stopped me dead in my tracks.

Through the half-open door, Bertram was tending to a woman.

Sybilla Dickerson.

Holding a cup of water to her lips. Peeling fruit for her.

Just a few nights ago, my throat had been raw. I'd asked him for a glass of water.

He'd said：“A sore throat doesn't stop your legs from working or your hands from pouring, does it?”

“I'm exhausted, okay?”

I'd felt so wronged. I wanted to explain that my head was spinning too,