I shared a hospital bed with my 19-year-old stepson merely to keep my 50-year-old husband company. A car accident left my husband with a leg injury, cutting our road trip short. Determined to save money, he chose a small local hospital with cramped, simple rooms. The ward only had two beds: my husband took the right one, leaving me to share the left bed with my stepson. While my husband snored loudly beside us, every move I made left me brushing up against my stepson. What began as a harmless overnight hospital stay quickly turned into a nightmare. Our forbidden entanglement was even caught by the night nurse. I would have never chosen to stay in that room if I’d known everything would spiral out of control.
