The doctor whispered, “There are marks of women’s fingernails on your husband’s back.” I looked at my “paralyzed” husband, slowly pulled back the blanket — and literally froze. 😨😱
For three days Marco had been lying on our wide bed in the pose of a tragic hero. His arms stretched along his body, his face filled with universal suffering, and the blanket carefully pulled up to his chin, as if the most terrible injuries known to medicine were hidden beneath it.
— Lia, I can’t feel the little toe on my left foot anymore… — he groaned, and his voice trembled as if he were performing on stage before a full audience. — It’s over. I think I’m paralyzed.
— Marco, you just numbed your leg. You’ve been lying still for almost three hours.
— Have you forgotten how I sacrificed myself for this house? I moved that damn couch so you could watch your series more comfortably.
In reality, three days earlier Marco had simply bent down to pick up a beer bottle cap that had rolled under the armchair.
In his version, it looked like a heroic act: as if he had saved the house from disaster.
Since then I had been running between the kitchen and the bedroom, bringing soups, pillows, medicine, and patiently listening to his dramatic speeches about fate and disability.
When our acquaintance, the neurologist Dr. Daniel, arrived, Marco immediately intensified his performance: he groaned louder, rolled his eyes, and even tried to imitate trembling in his legs. The examination did not last long. The reflexes turned out to be perfect.
— Turn onto your stomach, — the doctor said calmly.
A minute later the doctor suddenly froze, leaned closer, and ran his finger across his back. Then he took off his glasses, and a strange expression appeared on his face — a mixture of embarrassment and surprise.
— Lia, could you come here for a moment? — he said quietly. — Let’s give the patient some rest.
We went out to the kitchen, and I closed the door.
My heart began to beat faster.
— Well? — I asked. — Is it serious?
The doctor sighed.
— From a medical point of view everything is simple, — he said. — A mild muscle inflammation, nothing serious. But there is one… detail.
He lowered his voice almost to a whisper:
— There are long, deep, very characteristic marks on your husband’s back.
— Marks from a fall?
— No… rather marks of passion… more precisely from women’s fingernails.
I slowly looked at my hands — short nails, without polish, rough from kitchen work and labor.
And at that moment Marco’s voice suddenly came from the bedroom… 😰
Continuation in the first comment.👇👇
I slowly took a breath, trying to keep my face calm. Inside, everything was already beginning to form into an unpleasant but perfectly clear picture.
— Thank you, Dr. Daniel, — I said quietly. — It seems the treatment is really already beginning.
When I returned to the bedroom, Marco was lying exactly as before — with the expression of a martyr and his mouth slightly open. When he saw me, he immediately groaned louder.
— Lia… I think the pain is getting stronger… I’ll probably need a few more days of complete rest.
I stepped closer, took a chair, and calmly sat down opposite the bed.
— Amazing, — I said softly. — The doctor claims that in a couple of days you will be completely healthy.
Marco visibly tensed.
— Really? — he asked cautiously.
I smiled slightly and slowly picked up the remote control from the floor that he “couldn’t” reach. Then just as calmly I pulled the blanket down, revealing his back.
— There is just one small detail, Marco… — I said almost gently. — The doctor became very interested in the scratches on your back. Long. Deep. Feminine.
For a second silence filled the room.
And a real miracle happened: the man who had not felt his legs for three days suddenly sat up in bed.
I looked at him silently.
— It seems, — I said quietly as I stood up, — that medicine has once again proven its effectiveness today.
Especially when the diagnosis is made by the truth.
