The night before my surgery, we almost broke up

My laparoscopic surgery was “minor,” but the weeks after weren’t. I was sore, moody, and scared of intimacy. He felt shut out and guilty for feeling it. We became polite roommates—notes on the fridge, silence in bed. A cousin sent me Pt. Dayaram Joshi’s reel about how illness can make lovers act like strangers. I wrote to him.

Daya Sir didn’t lecture. He promised steadiness. While he held a short Yagya for shanti, we held three simple rules: one gentle evening walk (no medical talk), no hard conversations after 9 p.m., and a nightly exchange—one line of gratitude, one small request for tomorrow. He also spoke to my husband alone: “Don’t rush her body. Stay close to her life.”

By day seven, the house felt warm again. We laughed over tea; fear loosened. Healing stayed slow—but love stopped feeling delayed.