It left all at once, in a single confession.

It returns only slowly, in a way that cannot be rushed or promised or willed into being.

It comes back one day at a time, one honest choice at a time, one morning at a time when he actually tells her where he is going and it turns out to be true.

Saying sorry took my brother an afternoon.

Becoming a person his wife can trust again is taking, and will take, years.

There is no shortcut.