And standing in that trauma bay at four in the morning, I realized that I was the one exception, the single relationship in her life that both loved her and could see the truth, the one door in a house he had otherwise sealed.

It was a heavy thing to understand.

It meant that if I got any of it wrong, from here forward, there was no one else.

It also meant, and this is the thought I held onto, that being that one exception was not a burden but a gift, because it is a rare and precious thing to be, at the worst moment of someone’s life, the exact person they need and the only one available.

I was in the right place.