Ben’s voice became quieter.
“I kept the first promise until tonight. Then, before surgery, she asked me to make a new one.”
I stared down the corridor toward the operating rooms.
Memories returned differently now.
Ben taking Rosie to appointments my parents claimed were routine.
Ben insisting she sign her own checks.
Rosie becoming more confident.
Rosie telling Dad that she would make her own holiday plans.
Ben never speaking for her when she was present.
Their marriage had never been an act.
The deception had been real.
But so was their love.
“I hated you,” I whispered.
Ben nodded.
“For about two minutes, I hated you more than I have ever hated anyone.”
“I understand.”
“Do not say that.”
“Okay.”
I clutched the contract against my chest.
“If she dies—”
My voice failed.
Ben covered his face.
“She cannot.”
Fast footsteps echoed down the corridor.
We both turned.
