I woke up to strange sounds—low humming, giggling—and found my husband, Sayed, mumbling incoherently and flapping his arms.
Frightened, I called 911. At the hospital, doctors said he’d suffered a mild seizure likely due to stress or sleep deprivation. As I watched him through the glass, motionless and masked, a nurse quietly asked if he’d shown unusual behavior.
I wanted to say no—but deep down, I knew better.
Over the past months, Sayed had grown secretive. Late nights, hushed calls, and a woman’s name—Nadia—had appeared once. He claimed she was a coworker, but something never sat right. Still, I dismissed it, blaming pandemic stress and finances. Yet seeing him now, I realized I no longer recognized the man I married.
