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For as long as I’ve known her, my wife has lived a life of service. She’s a nurse — devoted, tireless, and often stretched thin between the hospital and the people who depend on her. Her schedule has never been steady. Some weeks she’s home only three nights, others she disappears into long shifts that seem endless.
I’ve always tried to be understanding. Nursing isn’t just a job; it’s a calling, one that demands patience, compassion, and endless sacrifice. Still, in recent months, I began to feel something change between us.
She’d sit down, glance at her phone again and again, lost in thought. The sparkle in her eyes seemed dimmer. I told myself she was simply exhausted — the hospital had been busier than ever, after all. But a small ache began to grow inside me, the kind you try to ignore because it feels too heavy to name.
The Night That Changed Everything
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