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A stranger approached her and quietly said the chilling words, “Install a hidden camera in his room.”

She was really struggling to come to terms with the reality that he only had a few weeks left to live. I never imagined that my life would come to a close in the corridor of a hospital.

“Stage four cancer…metastasized,” the doctor said, and those words lingered in my mind like a chilling omen. He’s not going to make it past a few weeks.

When I heard the news, it felt like all hope for Eric and our future together vanished. With just a few days remaining after 15 years of marriage, the end was near.

With the golden band on my finger, it felt weighty, as if it carried the memories of happier days. Some of my favorite moments include our first dance, the peaceful coffee we shared in the morning, and the way he gently stroked my hair when I was feeling down.

As I observed other families passing by, a knot started to form in my stomach. Some were in tears, others were laughing, and many found themselves caught in that odd space between hope and despair. I realized it was time to go before everything spiraled out of control.

As I walked through the automatic doors, the air gently brushed against my face, reminiscent of late September. I found myself a bit taken aback by the sensation.

I walked over to a bench by the door, but when I reached it, I ended up falling instead of just sitting down. The long, wavy shadows cast by the setting sun across the hospital grounds reflected the deep pain I was experiencing inside.

That’s when she arrived.

At first, she didn’t come across as particularly interesting. In her late forties, she resembled just about any other nurse. She had on blue scrubs. Her weary eyes seemed to mirror something deeper.

She slipped on comfortable shoes, perfect for those long hours on her feet, and gathered her silver-streaked hair into a neat bun. She really looks great in those shoes. She just plopped down next to me without a word. Having her there was a mix of irritation and comfort.

“He needs to have a hidden camera put in his room,” she said softly. “He’s not at the end of the line.”

The words stung like the burn of hot water from a shower. “Excuse me?” My boyfriend doesn’t have much time left to live. The doctors were in agreement about it. How bold are you?

She gazed directly at me and said, “Believing is seeing.” “I have a job at this place in the evenings.” I can see what’s happening quite clearly. Certain sections seem disconnected from the overall context. You deserve to know the truth, and I’m here to share everything with you.

Before I could respond, she stood up and walked away, slipping through the hospital doors like a specter. I’m still trying to figure out what happened.

That night, I lay in bed, my thoughts racing. Eric’s recollections of the day he was labeled clashed sharply with the stranger’s repeated assertions. The doctor’s expression revealed his struggle as he delivered the heartbreaking news to me. He held my hand in his.

What she said, “He is not dying,” was a bit ambiguous. Conversely, the notion felt unattainable, yet the question lingered on. As I entered my credit card details, my hands trembled with excitement; I had just ordered a small camera online, set to arrive bright and early the next morning.

Early the next morning, I quietly slipped into his room while Eric was being examined by the doctor.

I carefully placed the small camera on the ledge, surrounded by the delicate lilies and roses in the vase, feeling a slight tremor as I did so. Even though each step I took was painful, I felt a stronger force guiding me ahead.

“I’m sorry,” I said, though I couldn’t tell if the apology was meant for Eric or for my own conscience. I was sorry for someone I didn’t know.

After a bit over an hour, Eric returned to bed. He appeared somewhat pale and downcast. In his hospital clothes, he appeared even more delicate and diminutive. He inquired, “Where were you?” his voice trembling.

Throughout the entire conversation, I deceived them by saying, “I’m just getting a coffee.” “What’s going on with the scan?”

When he rolled over in bed, the blankets let out a gentle rustle. He was hurting a great deal. “So tiring.” It feels like things are just getting worse. I really just need a little time to relax and heal.

I nodded and squeezed his hand tightly. Once you say “certainly,” you can let it all out.

That night, I returned home and did everything I could to make Eric as comfortable as possible. After that, I settled down on my bed. As I sat in front of the camera stream, the blue light from my laptop illuminated my face, and I could feel my heart racing so fast that it seemed to thump in my throat. The camera flash left me momentarily blinded.

For hours, it felt like nothing was happening. I felt foolish for paying attention to a stranger as nurses moved in and out while Eric was asleep.

After that, everything shifted significantly when nine o’clock rolled in.

A woman walked into the room through the open door. She stood tall, exuding beauty in her leather coat, radiating confidence. The next thing that happened sent a chill down my spine. As she approached Eric’s bed, the light caught her beautifully styled dark hair.

My husband Eric sat up with his back straight, even though he looked like he was really struggling. What was discovered required no further effort. It wasn’t painful at all. He seemed to be in a good mood. A peculiar kind of happiness lit up the man’s face as he approached the end of his life.

He stood up and wrapped her in a warm embrace. He was far from weak. He swung his legs over the side of the bed to get started. As we kissed, I felt the sting of my wedding band pressing against my finger, and it really hurt.

I couldn’t capture the sound of their conversation since the camera overlooked their genuine and warm body language. It truly shattered my heart as I observed them both.

He tucked the papers she had given him under his mattress, waiting for her return to hand them back to him. I found myself curious about their goals since they appeared to be quite significant.

As I made my way back to Eric’s room the following morning, a tightness gripped my chest when it hit me that I shouldn’t have been privy to those private details. He had returned to his human state, which left him pale, frail, and struggling to maintain his balance.

He smiled and said, “Good morning, my love,” as he reached for the water glass, his hands trembling just a bit. “It was an unfortunate evening.” The pain is becoming more intense.

I was about to shout at him and grab him by the collar to make him explain what was going to happen. Instead, I smiled, but it felt like my face was made of shattered glass. I’m really sorry to hear that.