Once, while cooking dinner, she dropped a spoon and apologized three times.

I told her there was nothing to apologize for.

She looked startled, then laughed at herself and started crying.

I stayed beside her, not demanding an explanation or promising she’d never feel scared again.

The next morning she asked if we could go somewhere for the weekend.

Not an expensive resort, not a trip requiring assistants or a schedule.

She wanted a small cabin outside the city with a porch and a walking trail.

I booked a place she chose.