“Sweetheart, you’re sixty-four. I just want to make sure you’re healthy.”
Eventually, I agreed. At the modern clinic, a physician named Dr. Adrian Cole supervised several examinations and presented me with numerous documents containing unfamiliar medical terminology.
When I tried to read the paperwork carefully, Daniel gently touched my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ve already reviewed everything.”
Trusting my husband, I signed the forms without fully understanding what they contained. Looking back, that decision was the beginning of everything that followed.
Soon afterward, Daniel introduced a new bedtime routine. Every evening, he prepared warm milk with honey, cinnamon, and vanilla, a drink that reminded me of something my mother used to make.
“My mother made something just like this.”
“I remembered, sweetheart.”
At first, I appreciated the thoughtful gesture. But after several weeks, I began waking up unusually exhausted, struggling to concentrate and occasionally forgetting ordinary conversations.
