At 52, I had a stroke. «The trip’s paid for, get better,» my husband said, then jetted off to the Maldives with the kids….

And according to our data, the patient’s condition is stable with a positive trend. But we have to leave. I need to talk to her.

Come back during visiting hours. The footsteps faded and silence fell. Pamela closed her eyes, feeling the tension of the last few days finally easing.

She didn’t know whether they had left or not, and for the first time, she didn’t care. At noon, Gloria appeared. You have a visitor, she informed her.

Should I let him in? Pamela tensed, thinking it was Miguel, but at the door stood Gabriel Diaz. All the documents are completed. Notifications have been sent, he said without preamble.

Your accounts are protected. The property is safe. Now you can focus on your recovery.

Thank you, Pamela sincerely thanked him. What about my family? According to my information, they did fly out, the notary replied. Your husband had to use his own credit card to pay for additional services.

Pamela nodded. Strange, but this news didn’t cause pain. Only relief, now that the decision was made, she could move on.

I called a rehabilitation specialist I know, Gabriel continued. He’s ready to take on your recovery program. Very good specialist, worked in Switzerland.

I’m not sure I can afford that right now, Pamela said, thinking of her frozen accounts. Don’t worry about that, the notary smiled. You have enough funds and a personal account that wasn’t part of the power of attorney.

Plus, your insurance covers a significant portion of the rehabilitation. The next two weeks, Pamela dedicated entirely to her recovery. With the same determination she once put into building her career, she now fought for the return of her mobility and speech.

Gloria helped her with exercises, brought books on neuroplasticity, and supported her when Pamela was ready to give up. The rehabilitation specialist recommended by Gabriel turned out to be demanding but effective. Listen, Mrs. Vincente, he said while helping her perform difficult exercises for her right hand.

The brain has an amazing ability to recover. But for that, two things are needed, regular practice and a positive mindset. I can provide the first, but the second is only something you can do yourself.

And Pamela tried. Every day, she did all the prescribed exercises, forcing her reluctant muscles to work. With the help of a speech therapist, she practiced her speech, articulating complex tongue twisters.

In the evenings, she read aloud, recording herself on a voice recorder to track her progress. Gabriel visited her regularly, helping her with legal matters. They moved all the accounts to another bank, changed passwords and access details, and prepared documents for the division of assets.

Are you sure about the divorce? He asked one day, filling out more papers. Maybe it’s worth waiting until you fully recover? No, Pamela replied firmly, and there was no trace of her former uncertainty in her voice. Right now, when I’m physically weak, I need legal protection.

The notary nodded understandingly. A reasonable decision. There was no news from her family.

Pamela’s phone remained silent, no calls, no messages. Sometimes, she looked at the photos of the resort in the Maldives, imagining how they were sunbathing, swimming, enjoying life. Strangely, those thoughts didn’t bring bitterness.

Only a calm resolve to follow her own path. Laura continued to stop by with homemade pastries and news. Miguel called me yesterday, she said during another visit.

He asked me to tell you that everything is fine, the weather is wonderful, they’re having a great time. He asked about your health. And how about the cards? Pamela asked with a light irony, fighting back tears.

Laura was flustered. Well, he mentioned something about a misunderstanding with the bank. But I don’t know anything about those matters, so I just told him that.

Pamela nodded. Thank you, Laura. After the neighbor left, Pamela sat by the window for a long time, watching the life of the hospital courtyard.

Young mothers with strollers, elderly patients on benches, doctors hurrying to their tasks. The usual life, in which she now saw so many shades and details that had been unnoticed before. The day before her family returned from the Maldives, Pamela was transferred from the hospital to a rehabilitation center.

The room was bright and spacious, with a large window overlooking the park. Gabriel personally accompanied her during the move, making sure all the necessary documents were in order. You will be comfortable here, he said, helping her settle in.

And most importantly, you will receive professional recovery treatment. Pamela looked at him gratefully. I don’t know how to thank you for your help.

You’ve already done it, the notary smiled. With your perseverance and will to live. You know, Pamela, I’ve seen many people in crisis situations.

Most of them break down. You’re one of the rare few who get stronger. That same evening, Laura called, agitated and flustered.

Pamela, I don’t know what to think. Your family returned from the resort, but they can’t get into the apartment. The locks have been changed.

Miguel called me, asking if I knew what was going on. I told him I had no idea that you were in the hospital. Everything’s fine, Laura, Pamela replied calmly.

It’s supposed to be that way. But what about them? Where will they live? Victoria has her own apartment, Pamela reminded her. And Mateo too.

Miguel can move in with the kids. Oh, Pamela, Laura seemed truly confused. What happened between you? Just life, Pamela replied.

Sometimes it gives unexpected lessons. An hour later, the phone rang loudly. It was Miguel…