I reached for his hand without thinking.
“Conor…”
“I know,” he whispered. “I know how stupid
it sounds. I should have told you. But I couldn’t bear the thought of looking at your face and seeing you frightened because of me.”
I squeezed his hand.
“Do you think I would rather discover something like this by accident?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Then why?”
He remained silent for a moment.
Then he began telling me everything.
Three months earlier, he had noticed a small swelling near his ankle. At first, he assumed it was a minor injury from walking too much at work. When the swelling grew and the pain worsened, he visited a doctor without telling me.
The doctor ordered scans.
Those scans revealed an abnormal growth that required further testing.
A specialist recommended surgery to remove the growth and obtain tissue samples.
Conor had undergone the procedure several weeks before the supposed workplace accident.
He had told me he was staying overnight at a
colleague’s house after an unusually demanding workday.
In reality, he had been recovering at a private clinic.
I stared at him in disbelief.
“You lied about where you were?”
“Yes.”
“And the scar?”
“That’s from the operation.”
I felt tears gathering in my eyes.
“What about the fracture?”
He hesitated.
“I did injure my ankle at work. I slipped on the wet floor. But the doctor who treated me didn’t know about the earlier surgery because I never told him the full story.”
I frowned.
“Why would you hide the surgery from the doctor treating your fracture?”
“Because I was terrified someone would find out.”
I couldn’t understand how fear had driven him to make one terrible decision after another.
But I could see how deeply he regretted it.
“What did the biopsy show?” I asked.
He pressed his lips together.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he
reached into the pocket of his jacket, which lay folded beside him, and took out a small envelope.
He had carried it with him to the hospital.
Inside were several pages of medical documents.
“I was supposed to have another appointment next week,” he said. “I kept putting it off.”
My hands trembled as I took the papers.
I didn’t understand every medical term, but I recognized the words pathology report and follow-up consultation.
At the bottom of one page, I found a note indicating that further specialist assessment was recommended.
