He lowered his head.
“At first, the doctor had told us that the liquid form could be mixed with a small amount of a drink, and you knew about it then. But years passed. You stopped remembering that period clearly.”
I could barely speak.
“So why did you keep doing it?”
George was silent for a long time.
Alcohol addiction resources
Finally, he whispered,
“Because I was afraid.”
Those three words changed everything.
“I was afraid of that night when you collapsed in the kitchen and stopped responding to me. Every time you refused the drink, I saw that night again in my head.”
I was angry.
Very angry.
He should have told me.
He should have spoken to a doctor again instead of continuing an old routine for decades.
But for the first time, I understood what had been hiding underneath his anger.
Not hatred.
Fear.
The following week, we went to a doctor together.
