I crossed the room immediately. “I’ll take over,” I said, already reaching for the handles of the chair.
She nodded. “Your wife did great. Results will be sent to your orthopedist.”
“I’ll make sure she gets home safely,” I said.
Your wife.
The word slipped into place naturally this time.
“She’s lucky to have you,” she replied.
I did not respond to that. I was looking down at Belle. She was staring up at me with an expression I had not seen before.
“You’re taking good care of yourwifenow?” she murmured.
“Yes, I will take excellent care ofmy wife,” I said evenly.
The words did not feel performative. They felt . . . correct. Her mouth curved slightly. Something warm settled low in my chest.
I began pushing the wheelchair toward the exit.
Outside, the air felt warmer than before. The world continued normally. And yet something in my internal landscape had shifted.
I had married her for practical reasons, yet standing there in a hospital lobby, claiming her without hesitation, I realized something disconcerting.
I did not want this to be temporary.
14
BELLE
Did this man really just call me his wife?
The word had slipped out of him so naturally. No hesitation. No irony. I hadn’t been prepared for how that would feel. The nurse hadn’t blinked. The receptionist hadn’t blinked. The world had simply accepted it. But I had felt it. It settled somewhere low and warm and unsettling in my chest.
My wife.
I was still trying to process that when my phone rang in the car.
Raphael had just helped me in carefully, efficiently, like he was assembling a valuable piece of equipment, and closed the door with that quiet deliberation of his.
Unknown number.
“Answer it,” he’d said.
The doctor’s voice came through, brisk but not unkind. Radiology had already reviewed the scan. Already. I listened, bracing for something catastrophic.
“Minor meniscus tear,” he said. “No surgical intervention needed at this time. Rest, compression, brace, anti-inflammatories. Physical therapy. Six to eight weeks beforereturning to regular activity. We will re-evaluate when you can return to your sport.”
“Thank you,” I told him. “I appreciate the quick turnaround.”
When I hung up, I stared at the dashboard for a second.
“That was fast,” I said.
Raphael didn’t look at me, but I saw the smallest shift in his posture.
“That was you,” I said, eyeing him.
