The elderly woman in the bed beside him was completely alone

 When my husband was hospitalized after a car accident, I noticed that the elderly woman in the bed beside him was completely alone, so I began bringing her food three times a day. One day, she handed me an old banknote and said something that shocked me…

The day my husband, Javier Morales, was admitted to the hospital after a serious car accident, I felt as if my life had stopped. The doctor said he was lucky to be alive, but he would need several weeks of observation. I practically lived in the hospital—sleeping in a chair, clothes wrinkled, heart constantly anxious. We were struggling financially; Javier was a delivery driver, and I, Lucía Fernández, worked irregular hours cleaning houses. But the only thing that mattered to me was seeing him breathe.

In the shared room, in the bed next to Javier’s, there was a thin elderly woman with snow-white hair. Her name was Doña Carmen Ríos. From the very first day, I noticed something unusual: no one ever visited her. No children, no grandchildren, no friends. Nurses came in, spoke to her politely, but always left in a hurry. She spent her time staring at the ceiling or out the window, silent.

I brought homemade food for Javier three times a day because he struggled with the hospital meals. One afternoon, while he was sleeping, I saw Doña Carmen trying to eat from her tray, but her hands were shaking. She barely managed to eat anything. Without thinking, I offered her some of the soup I had brought. She looked at me, surprised, and smiled with such gratitude it nearly brought me to tears.

From then on, I brought her food too—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Nothing fancy, but warm and made with care. We didn’t talk much. She told me she had been alone for a long time, that her husband had died, and her child had been living abroad for years. She didn’t complain; it was as if she had simply accepted it as fact.

Days passed. Javier slowly improved. Doña Carmen, however, seemed to grow weaker. One afternoon, as I was picking up the empty containers, she grabbed my hand with surprising strength. From beneath her pillow, she pulled out an old banknote, extremely worn, carefully folded.

“Keep this,” she whispered. “It’s a promise… and a warning.”

Before I could ask what, she meant, she leaned closer and whispered something that shook me to my core—just as a nurse rushed into the room…