I Donated My Kidney to My Wife—Then I Heard Her Secret Through the Hospital Curtain
Chapter 2
The man’s name was Adrian.
I learned that much before he left.
I also learned something else.
He wasn’t Claire’s lover.
At least, not in the way I had first assumed.
“Adrian, you can’t keep doing this,” Claire whispered.
“You owe me the truth.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“You owe your father.”
The word hit me harder than anything else.
Father.
Claire’s father had been dead for seven years.
Or so I thought.
I heard Adrian’s footsteps retreat.
Then the curtain moved.
Claire appeared beside my bed.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
Her face was pale, her dark hair tied loosely behind her neck.
For a second, she smiled.
“You scared me.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because you weren’t answering.”
I almost laughed.
“I was asleep.”
She touched my hand.
Her fingers were cold.
“How are you feeling?”
I looked down at the scar beneath my gown.
“Like someone cut me open.”
Her expression tightened.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
She looked confused.
“Of course I am.”
I wanted to ask about Adrian.
Instead, I said, “Who was that?”
Her hand froze.
“What?”
“The man behind the curtain.”
She swallowed.
“Adrian.”
“So you know him.”
“He’s a friend.”
“From where?”
“Work.”
I stared at her.
Claire had never mentioned an Adrian.
Not once.
She looked away.
“You’re still recovering. You shouldn’t worry about things like this.”
“Things like what?”
“Stress.”
I smiled.
It was a strange, empty smile.
“You just had a kidney from my body put inside you, Claire.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know.”
“Then don’t tell me what I should worry about.”
She sat down.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
“I love you.”
Six months earlier, those words would have made me feel safe.
Now they sounded rehearsed.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
At 2:13 a.m., I heard Claire speaking on the phone in the hallway.
“I told you,” she whispered. “He’s recovering.”
A pause.
“No. He doesn’t know.”
Another pause.
“Because if he knew what his father did to mine, he would never have donated.”
My eyes opened.
His father.
Mine.
I stared into the darkness.
My father had died when I was nineteen.
And I had never heard the name Claire’s father mentioned in connection with him.
For the first time since my surgery, I forgot about the pain.
Something much worse had started.
