Zaid turned to her slowly, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts.
— “Just… tired,” he managed to whisper, but his face told a different story.
Anna knew this was more than fatigue. She grabbed her phone, her hands shaking.
— “Zaid, enough. I’m calling for help,” she said firmly.
He tried to protest, but his strength was failing.
— “Don’t… make a scene… it will pass…”
— “No, it won’t,” she countered, her voice steady despite her fear. “I’m not taking that chance. Stay with me.”
She quickly called the emergency line. Her voice was urgent but clear as she spoke to the operator.
— “I need an ambulance immediately. My husband is having a medical emergency—he’s struggling to breathe, he’s extremely pale, and he’s losing consciousness. Please, hurry.”
She answered the operator’s questions as quickly as possible, never taking her eyes off Zaid, who was now sliding toward the floor.
— “They’re coming,” she whispered, kneeling beside him and taking his hand. “Zaid, look at me. Stay awake. Please.”
Her voice trembled, but she held it together for him.
Zaid gave her hand a weak squeeze, his eyes fluttering.
— “I’m sorry, Anna. I didn’t want you to see this,” he whispered, just before his eyes closed and he went limp.
Anna held his hand to her chest, feeling a wave of pure terror. Minutes later, the sirens arrived. The medical team rushed in, but Zaid was already unresponsive. They stabilized him as best they could and rushed him to the hospital. Anna followed in a daze, her heart heavy with a dread she couldn’t name.
Anna stood outside the ICU, arms crossed, fighting back tears as the doctors worked behind the glass. She watched as one doctor turned to another, speaking urgently.
— “Pulse is weak, BP is bottoming out. It looks like heart failure, but the onset is atypical.”
The other doctor frowned, checking the monitors.
— “Any history of heart disease? The chart doesn’t show anything significant.”
— “Based on these symptoms, this could be a chronic condition he’s been managing privately,” a third doctor added, reviewing the intake notes.
They tried everything—medication, resuscitation—but Zaid’s condition continued to spiral. The lead physician finally looked at his colleague and shook his head.
— “We’re losing him. This is moving too fast.”
Anna felt the world go cold. The lead doctor stepped out into the hallway, his face etched with regret.
— “We did everything we could,” he said softly, avoiding her gaze. “It appears to have been a massive cardiac event. It’s possible he had an underlying condition he chose not to disclose.”
Anna shook her head, unable to process the words. She stared at the doctor, the shock turning into a sharp, jagged pain.
— “That’s impossible,” she whispered. “He was fine. He was strong. How could this happen?”
Her voice broke, the grief turning into a desperate need for answers.
— “You’re doctors! How could you not save him? How did no one know he was sick?” she demanded, her emotions boiling over.
The doctor remained calm, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.
— “Anna, I know this is a shock. But it’s likely your husband knew about his condition and kept it private. We did our absolute best.”
His sincerity took some of the edge off her anger, and she slumped against the wall, the tears finally coming.
— “I’m so sorry. Please know that he wasn’t in pain at the end,” the doctor added gently, giving her space to grieve.
Anna stood there, feeling a profound sense of isolation. Only twenty-four hours ago, she was a happy bride. Now, she was a widow in a foreign land, having lost the man she had barely begun to truly know.
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