Sophia nodded, unable to speak. Her husband came closer, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and she smelled the familiar scent of his woody cologne with notes of bergamot.
“What if we see another doctor? Mom says she knows a gastroenterologist, a really good specialist.”
At the mention of her mother-in-law, Sophia tensed involuntarily, but tried not to show it. Eleanor was a delicate subject in their marriage, the only cloud in the clear sky of their relationship.
“I’ve already seen five doctors, Alex. They all say the same thing. The tests are fine. My organs are healthy. Maybe it’s psychosomatic.”
“So you need a psychologist.”
Sophia pulled away and looked her husband in the eyes. Was it her imagination, or did a flicker of doubt cross his gaze? No, she was probably imagining it. Alex loved her. Of that, she had no doubt.
“I’m not crazy,” she said quietly, but firmly.
“I’m not saying you’re crazy. It’s just that Mom thinks—”
