My name on the first line.

His on the second.

And beside his name, printed, in capitals, the way the form prints it:

SPOUSE.

I drove home.

I did not read page two until the following evening, because I could not, and I want to be clear that this is the only piece of cowardice in this account that I forgive myself for entirely.

Page two is a hundred and eighty words and it is the reason all of this exists.

I did not need a wife to make my life mean something, Hannah.