I showed up at the hospital to surprise my husband during his shift. But the second one of his coworkers saw me, all the color left his face. Then his eyes filled with tears. “He hasn’t said a word to you, has he?” Ben and I had been married eleven years, and for every one of those years, I had shared him with the hospital. He was a remarkably gifted surgeon.

Paul closed the wooden door firmly, removed his wire-rimmed glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose for several long seconds.

“Hannah, Brian doesn’t work at Valley Memorial Center anymore.”

A sharp, unbelieving laugh escaped my lips before I could hold it back.

“That’s a ridiculous joke, Paul, and it isn’t the least bit funny.”

“I wish with all my heart I were joking, but what I’m telling you is the absolute truth.”

“He walked out our front door this morning in his scrubs, with his plastic hospital ID clipped to his chest.”

Paul raised his eyes, his voice breaking with feeling.