A man once said: My wife always smiled, her eyes filled with warmth as she said, “I love you.” I, lost in the routine of life, would respond casually, “I love you too, dear.” These were the kinds of words that men often hear from their wives, without fully appreciating their weight. She was always so full of life, expressing her love without hesitation. Sometimes, I’d wonder to myself, “What is it about me that makes her love me so much?”
One night, she seemed restless, as if she needed to talk. But, as usual, I was too occupied with my work to pay attention. To avoid conversation, I said, “Look, I don’t have time. Everything I do is for your comfort, but you always choose the worst time to cling to me.” She paused for a moment, then said quietly, “I wish I weren’t here so you wouldn’t be bothered.” Her words lit a fire inside me, and without thinking, I blurted out, “I wish you weren’t here by morning.” The moment the words left my mouth, her face went blank, the light in her eyes dimmed. She stared at me for a long, heavy moment and then walked silently to the bedroom and closed the door.
When I finished my work, I joined her in bed. Her long hair lay spread across the pillow, and her face, unlike any other night, seemed cold and distant. I wrapped my arms around her, thinking how beautiful she was, feeling proud to have the most beautiful woman in the world by my side. She gave a faint, lifeless smile, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. I slept soundly that night, for the first time in a long while.
Morning came, but nothing was as it had been. Five years have passed since that night, and I haven’t had a peaceful sleep since. A thousand questions plague my mind, none of which I have answers to. Could a single sentence, said in anger, be so heavy that it stops a beating heart? My wife never woke up. She had suffered cardiac arrest. Maybe she had been fading for a long time, from the days when she wore colorful dresses that secretly filled me with joy, even though I showed no reaction. Maybe it started when she needed me to listen, but I was always too busy.
After her death, I searched for something that might give me solace. I opened the drawer by the bed and found an envelope. Inside was her test result. The world collapsed around me. Her family had asked the coroner not to tell me anything to spare me further devastation. That night, she wanted to spend more time together to tell me that I was going to be a father. Now, every night, I hold her dress and apologize a thousand times, but she is so hurt that she will never forgive me.
I learned that sometimes, a single word can break a heart so deeply that it stops. We must be more careful with our words, for sometimes, how quickly it becomes too late.
