Actions Speak Louder Than Words

True love isn’t about grand gestures but quiet devotion. A die-hard romantic, the writer longed for storybook romance, but her husband, a man of few words, showed love through actions. When a medical emergency struck, his silent strength, unwavering care, and selfless sacrifices redefined love beyond words, in deeds.

After marriage, reality struck when my spouse turned out to be a man of few words and even fewer romantic gestures.

We were two opposite poles, and while opposites may attract, they also cause friction. At times, I found myself wistfully comparing my life to the romance novels I had read.

Despite our differences, life moved on. In 2017, we relocated to a small city in Madhya Pradesh due to his job. The transition was anything but easy. The children were adjusting to their new schools, my husband was settling into his new role, and I was navigating the chaos of setting up a home in an unfamiliar place.

One sunny March morning, the kids left for school, and my husband went to work as usual. I stayed back, busy unpacking and organizing the house with the maid’s help. The day began uneventfully but took a sharp turn when I suddenly felt an excruciating pain in my stomach. It hit me like a thunderbolt—sharp, unrelenting, and unbearable.

I cried out in agony, clutching my abdomen.

Being new to the area, I hadn’t yet built a support system or made friends with the neighbors. I was stranded in my pain, unable to think clearly. With great difficulty, I reached for my phone and called my husband.

My voice, trembling and weak, was enough for him to know that something was seriously wrong.

Seeing my condition, the maid rushed to inform a neighbour. The neighbour, a kind woman I barely knew, came over immediately. She brought a hot water bag and painkillers, attempting to comfort me while we waited for my husband to return. Her presence was a small relief in what felt like an endless wave of pain.

When my husband arrived, his face reflected a mixture of worry and determination. Without hesitation, he helped me into the car, despite my inability to walk properly. My cries punctuated the air as he drove at breakneck speed to the nearest hospital. His usual calm demeanor gave way to urgency, every turn of the wheel showing his concern.

At the hospital, I was quickly taken to the emergency ward. The doctors ran a series of tests, and the results were concerning. An umbilical hernia had developed, causing strangulation, and a large fibroid was discovered as well. Both issues required immediate surgery.

At that moment, my husband’s quiet strength became my anchor.

There was no time to call relatives or friends for support; he had to handle everything on his own. He quickly gave his consent for the surgery and sprang into action, ensuring I was as comfortable as possible before leaving to check on the kids and gather essentials for my hospital stay.

When the doctors informed him that a pint of blood was needed for the surgery, he made a choice that left me speechless. Instead of procuring blood from a bank, he decided to donate his own. Since we shared the same blood group, it was the most direct and selfless solution. That night, while I rested under the influence of sedatives, he completed the necessary tests and formalities without a word of complaint.

The next morning, as they prepared to wheel me into the operation theater, he held my hand firmly. His grip was steady, and his eyes, though tired, radiated reassurance. “It will all be fine,” he said softly, masking his worry with a brave smile. His strength became my solace in that frightening moment.

The two-hour surgery was a success, and I was wheeled into the ICU for recovery. My husband waited outside, refusing to leave until I regained consciousness. The doctors, impressed by his dedication, later told me how he had paced the hallways, visibly anxious but determined to stay strong.

In the days that followed, his care and commitment spoke volumes.

He took a month’s leave from work to be by my side, managing the household and caring for the kids while ensuring I had everything I needed. From preparing meals to helping me with the smallest tasks, he catered to my every whim without a hint of irritation.

It was during this time, that I truly understood the depth of his love. All the years I had spent longing for grand romantic gestures now felt inconsequential. True love wasn’t about moonlit walks or whispered sweet nothings; it was about showing up when it mattered most.

My husband’s quiet devotion redefined romance for me. He taught me that love is not measured by bouquets or serenades but by the silent sacrifices made every day. It was in the way he held my hand, the way he stayed up late to ensure I was comfortable, and the way he quietly became my rock during a storm.

Love, I realized, is not always loud.


Dr PREETI TALWAR

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