What started as a routine hospital visit took a surreal turn when my husband’s nurse stopped me in the hallway. With a furtive glance down the corridor, she whispered, “Listen, I don’t want to alarm you, but when you go back to your husband’s room, check under his bed.”
Confused and uneasy, I returned to Ethan’s room, trying to act normal while my heart raced. Ethan, recovering from hip surgery, looked startled to see me. His reaction was strange, but I brushed it off. Still, I couldn’t shake the nurse’s warning. Pretending to drop something, I crouched to peer under the bed—and froze.
Eyes. A woman was hiding there, staring back at me.
“What the—” I stumbled backward, my voice trembling. “Who are you? What are you doing under my husband’s bed?”
Ethan’s heart monitor beeped wildly as he sat up. “Wait! Sam, it’s not what you think!”
“Not what I think?” I shot back. “There’s a woman under your bed, Ethan!”
The woman scrambled out, her face flushed. “I can explain—” she began, but I cut her off.
“Ethan, start talking. Now.”
“She’s… a wedding planner,” he blurted, his voice pleading.
“A what?” I gaped.
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