You had a heart condition that made every breath a challenge. Even the smallest tasks left you drained, but Gilbert, your husband, never let you face it alone.

“Baby, what are you doing out of bed?” Gilbert asked one morning as he found you trying to tidy the dining room.

“I just wanted to help a little,” you said, slightly out of breath.

He frowned, gently taking the cloth from your hand. “You’re not supposed to push yourself. That’s why the maids are here.” He turned toward the nearest maid and said, “Stay by her side at all times. She doesn’t need to lift a finger—not even to get a glass of water.”

“But I don’t want to be a burden,” you protested softly.

“You’re not,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll take care of everything. You just focus on resting.”

Later that day, as you sat in the living room, a sharp pain shot through your chest. Your breaths came short and shallow, panic taking over as you clutched at your heart.

“Gilbert!” you called weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He rushed to your side in seconds, the maids stepping aside as he took over. “Breathe, my love,” he said gently, quickly connecting the oxygen tank. He placed the mask over your face, his hands steady despite the worry in his eyes.

You focused on the sound of his voice, his calm presence soothing you as your breathing began to steady.

Once you were okay, he knelt beside you, his hand brushing your hair away from your face. “That’s it, sweetheart. Nice and slow. I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered through the mask, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Don’t ever apologize,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “You’re my everything. I’ll make sure you’re safe, no matter what.” He kissed your forehead.