My husband had been inside me for less than a minute when he abruptly pulled out. Clutching his lower abdomen, he grimaced as if he were in agony. "Sorry, Tess. Mandy's appendicitis must be acting up. I need to go take care of her."   On our wedding day, Ryan Hale told me that he and my best friend, Amanda Brooks, had been linked by a neural pain-link system. Every bit of pain she felt would hit him at ten times the intensity.   For the next 3 years, Amanda repeatedly claimed to be ill. Each time, Ryan would turn pale and rush to her side, often staying out all night.   He threw on his shirt and left without looking back at me once.   A second later, the iPad beside me lit up. Ryan had forgotten to sign out of WhatsApp.   A message from Amanda popped up on the screen.   Amanda: How much longer until you get here? I'm fresh out of the shower and waiting for you. Tessa hasn't noticed anything, has she?   Ryan replied immediately.   Ryan: Relax. We've been using the pain-link excuse for 3 years, and she hasn't suspected a thing. She even feels sorry for me.   Ryan: I've saved everything for you. Just wait until tonight. If you can still get out of bed afterward, I'll admit defeat.   My expression hardened as I scrolled through page after page of explicit messages.   I called Silvercrest Medical Center and booked Ryan for a same-day appendectomy evaluation.   Since they loved putting on an act, I decided to play along.   Amanda supposedly had appendicitis, and Ryan supposedly felt ten times her pain. By that logic, there was no reason for him to keep his appendix.   Having it removed was only fair, wasn't it?