I read it, then looked at him.

“You stole my line.”

“I borrowed it,” he said.

“With permission, I hope.”

I thought of the hours in the consultation room, the letters we had read, the medical appointments, Sadie’s birthday cake, and all the nights when fear had sat at our table like an uninvited guest.

We had not solved everything.

His health still required attention and care.

Our marriage still required effort, and there were days when one of us slipped into an old habit.