The morning sun cut through the heavy linen curtains of our bright bedroom.
Evelyn was pale and shivered beneath the thick winter quilt.
She had been fighting a severe fever for three straight days.
Her body was exhausted, and her chest felt heavy with every breath.
I sat beside her and gently brushed her dark hair away from her damp forehead.
"I brought you some warm water, sweetheart," I said softly.
"Thank you, Mark," Evelyn whispered, her voice barely audible.
"I feel so weak today," she added, closing her blue eyes again.
"Just rest as much as you need," I replied, kissing her cool cheek.
I loved my wife with every single beat of my heart.
We had been married for two wonderful years in our small suburban home.
But our quiet happiness was completely disrupted three weeks ago.
My mother, Brenda, had moved into our spare room after her divorce.
She was a bitter woman who loved to control everyone around her.
From the moment Brenda arrived, she hated Evelyn with a deep passion.
She claimed my wife was not good enough for our family line.
Brenda treated our home like a hotel where she ruled as queen.
I tried my best to keep the peace between the two women.
I constantly begged my mother to be polite and show basic respect.
"She is my wife, Mom," I had told her just last night.
"You need to start treating her with kindness," I had demanded firmly.
"She is soft and useless," Brenda had sneered right back at me.
I had to leave for the local pharmacy to buy more medicine.
"I will be back in fifteen minutes, Evelyn," I said softly.
"Take your time, honey," she replied with a faint, tired smile.
I grabbed my truck keys from the kitchen counter near the door.
Brenda was sitting at the dining table, sipping her black coffee.
She did not even look at me as I walked past her.
"Please leave Evelyn alone while I am gone," I warned her directly.
Brenda just hummed a quiet tune and looked out the window.
A cold feeling settled deep inside my stomach as I stepped outside.
I walked fast toward my truck, wishing I did not have to leave.