For two months, every morning began the same way: that exhausting ritual at the toilet, after which, feeling completely exhausted, she would splash cold water on her face.
Sophia stared at her reflection: pale face, dark circles under her eyes, high cheekbones. She had lost 7 kilograms in those two months.
Although she had never been overweight, her colleagues at the pharmacy were already whispering behind her back. She overheard snippets of conversation about anorexia and nervous exhaustion.
The bathroom door creaked open and Alex’s worried face appeared.
“Again?” he asked quietly.
Sophia nodded, unable to find her voice.
Her husband stepped closer, put his arms around her, and she caught the familiar scent of his woody cologne with a hint of bergamot.
“What if we go to another doctor? Mom says she knows a gastroenterologist, a very good specialist.”
At the mention of her mother-in-law, Sophia involuntarily froze, but she tried to hide it. Eleanor was a sore subject in their marriage, the only cloud in the otherwise bright sky of their relationship.
“I’ve been to five doctors, Alex. They all say the same thing. My tests are fine. My organs are healthy. Maybe it’s psychosomatic, so I need a psychologist.”
Sophia pulled away and looked into her husband’s eyes. Had she imagined it, or had a flicker of doubt crossed his eyes? No, she probably had. Alex loved her. She never doubted it for a moment.
“I’m not crazy,” she said quietly but firmly.
“I’m not saying you’re crazy. Mom just thinks…”
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