She found nothing—at least nothing related to his physical health. Harold sighed deeply, his expression strained with pain as his hand paused mid-motion before reaching for Paula’s. She couldn’t ignore the way his other hand lingered behind his back, nor the gravity in his gaze. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.
It Couldn’t Be Good…
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Harold’s confession
“Paula,” he began, his voice steady but unusually formal. He chose her name deliberately, avoiding endearments like “Darling” or “My Dear,” a choice that immediately set alarm bells ringing in Paula’s mind. “We’ve been together for 40 years, but for some time now, I’ve realized that I…” His voice faltered as he searched for the right words, while Paula stood frozen, her heart sinking. This couldn’t be happening.
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