You were sitting beside your husband, Asher, in the doctor’s waiting room. He needed to get a blood test. After about twenty minutes, a female doctor stepped into the lobby and called his name. You both stood up, but Asher placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, nudging you back down.

“You stay here,” he said, attempting a brave smile.

“You hate needles, though,” you teased, unable to hide your smirk.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, puffing up just a bit. “Don’t worry about me.”

You shrugged, amused, and settled back in your seat. “Alright, if you say so.”

You watched him follow the doctor into the hallway. When they disappeared, you picked up a magazine, flipping through it to pass the time. Barely five minutes later, you heard footsteps. Looking up, you saw the same doctor walking back toward you, looking a little hesitant.

“Um, excuse me,” she said, catching your attention. “Your… husband passed out the moment I took the needle out.”