A Love That Faded Too Soon
On the day I had acute heart failure, the hospital issued several critical condition notices in a row.
While I was still conscious, my attending physician told me to call my family and say my last words. On instinct, I dialed Julia Mars, but no one picked up for a long time.
It wasn't until later that I found a "private arrangement" contract posted on her alt social media account. The terms spelled out her decade-long friends-with-benefits relationship with her childhood friend, Ken Cohen.
Her best friend commented under the post with congratulations: [Not bad, Counselor Mars, finally ready to go public with your little childhood buddy. If your husband finds out, you think he'll have a heart attack from the shock?]
Julia replied, completely unfazed: [He won't die. And even if he finds out, so what? The doctors didn't dare tell him that his heart is useless. He needs a transplant. That requires a fortune, and he can't get by without me.]
I spent a full week in the ICU clawing my way back from death's door. And in those seven short days, every last bit of love I had for her burned away to nothing.