The news will be good, the news will be good, the news will be good. The mantra I had repeated endlessly to myself on the train had taken root in me. The doctor ripping my hard-won hope out by the roots brought breath-stealing pain. “What kind of setback?”

The doctor sighed. “I am afraid he is raving. He has reverted to the stage in which he arrived. He is nearly incoherent.”

Shoulders back. Spine straight. I had to will my body to obey. Then my mouth. I only had enough strength for one word. “Nevertheless.”

“I would not recommend it.” The man spread his hands, annoyance flashing in his tone. He didn’t like that I argued. “The truth is, your husband doesn’t wish to see you, madam.”

A merciless chill had been growing inside my chest since I’d walked through the door. At the doctor’s latest pronouncement, my frozen heart cracked. Theo didn’t want me to see him in his current condition, didn’t want me to witness him weak, feared that I would think less of him. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Never.

“I must see for myself what state he is in.”

“You wouldn’t find it reassuring, Mevrouw Van Gogh. Rather the opposite, I fear. You should not come again.” He leaned forward, trying a fatherly smile that I found the opposite of comforting. “If I see improvement, I shall send a letter.”

I rose to my feet, clutching the dried flowers so hard, I was crushing the stems. I would not be brushed aside. I would not be sent away like a child. “I demand to see my husband.”

The doctor stood as well. “When he was told that you would visit today, madam, he flew into a rage. He destroyed his room. We had to remove him. For his own safety, you understand.”

My throat burned, and when it contracted, it hurt, as if I’d swallowed thistles. “Remove him where?”

“To a safer space.” The doctor’s tone dipped into patronizing. “Where he can find nothing with which to harm himself.”

“I shall not leave without seeing him.” They couldn’t make me, could they? “I insist.”

He snapped his teeth together. “As you wish.”

He shoved his office door open, and I hurried to keep up with him down the sterile white hallway. When we reached a pair of locked double doors, he yanked a key ring from his pocket. “These sights are not meant for ladies such as yourself.”

I clutched my bag in one hand and my flowers in the other. “I am determined.”

He opened the door, and we walked into hell.

The smell hit me first, as if something foul and rotten had been thrown into my face. I caught my breath, too late. I gagged.

The doctor strode forward. “I recommend you hold your handkerchief to your nose, madam.”