Even after all these years, I’m no less in love with her as when we got married. Three kids and twenty-nine years deep, she’s still my person. I don’t know what exactly it is. Maybe it’s her still planning dates, buying me flowers, surprising me with little gifts. I think it’s the little things that have built the base of our relationship. I don’t remember a day after I turned twenty-four I’ve gone to bed or woken up without loving her and being loved by her.

I lean against the nurse’s station, running my thumb over my engagement and wedding rings. I picked them out with her. I’ve always been particular, and opinionated. I press my thumb into the three diamonds that centre in the engagement band, and allow a soft smile. The ED is stable enough for me to have this moment, and so I do. I try to reflect on my love often- especially in times of stress or worry.

I’m stirred from my musings by my wife as she hands me a cup of coffee from our favourite place near home. “What’re you doing here in your day off?” I ask, tilting my head and accepting a kiss. She sighs in that heavy way she does, leaning against the desk with me as she sips her own cup of coffee. “Mohan called out sick, so here I am.” She murmurs, dragging a hand through her hair. My hand comes up to touch the side of her head with a frown.

“Your hair’s gettin’ long again. I’ll cut it tomorrow.” I mutter, running my hand through her hair now. She snags my hand as I go to pull it back, and kisses my palm. None of my nurses or question it; we’ve been married far too long for people to care. She’s never cared about that sort of propriety, and would have sex in the locker room if I agreed. I’m too old for that stuff, but we got up to our fair share of HR violations years ago.

She stretches her arms above her head- still chorded with an obscene amount of muscle for a fifty-seven-year-old woman. “Back still botherin’ you?” I ask, and she nods with a groan. She tweaked it in a car accident in her thirties, and it’s been touch-and-go since. It’s manageable, but no less irritating. “Think I irritated it when I was helping set up Erin’s dorm last week.” She replies, feigning another stretch to sneak a quick kiss. I push her back. She just smiles at me- the same crooked, dimpled smile that made me give her children.