Two months after divorcing my wife, I found her sitting alone in a hospital hallway wearing a patient gown

I waited outside the room, staring at the floor.

After several minutes, Linda opened the door.

“She’s asking for you.”

Inside, Sophie’s eyes fluttered open when I approached.

“Hey,” I whispered.

Her lips moved.

I leaned closer.

“What?”

“Detective name,” she murmured.

I frowned, confused.

Then I realized.

She was referring to the book.

I let out a shaky laugh thatturned dangerously close to a sob.

 

“I still can’t pronounce it.”

A faint smile touched her mouth.

“Thought so.”

I sat beside her and took her hand only after she moved her fingers toward mine.

“You did great,” I whispered.

She drifted in and out of sleep.

Each time she woke, she seemed surprised to find me there.

Each time, I said the same thing.

“I’m here.”

Two days after surgery, I went to Sophie’s apartment to pick up a few more things.

The city felt different that day. Brighter, though the sky was overcast. I parked outside her building and sat for a moment before going in.

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