Chapter 1
It took me 5 years to stand by my dentist husband, Keith Jenkins, from the time he was suspended from practicing until he got back to performing surgery again.
When his condition was at its worst, his hands shook the moment he put on gloves, so badly that he couldn't even hold a pair of forceps steadily.
I bought a whole crate of oranges, and stuck by him while he practiced the most basic suturing techniques from scratch.
On the night he completed his first successful patient consultation after his return to practice, he made a silver ring for me with his own hands.
Two words were engraved on the inner band: My Only.
He said that at home, he would be my one and only private doctor.
Later, he became a renowned expert in the field, yet he refused to check my wisdom tooth that had been hurting for 3 days.
Not wanting to put pressure on him, I signed up for a hospital appointment by myself.
That day, after the tooth extraction, the anesthetic hadn't yet worn off. I was holding my cheek as I walked out of the treatment room, only to spot my husband, who was supposed to have gotten off work already, at the end of the corridor.
The new female intern was sitting in the dental chair, her eyes red, saying she couldn't handle pain.
Half-kneeling in front of her, he had pulled his gloves back on and patiently examined her inflamed wisdom tooth.
As soon as she flinched, he paused to comfort her. "Relax. I'll stay late tonight to get this sorted out for you."
The nurse reminded him that his shift was already over.
Without looking up, he replied, "It's fine. She has to assist in surgery tomorrow, so she can't stay in pain like this."
I stood around the corner, the taste of blood slowly spreading in my mouth.
So it wasn't that he couldn't stay late after work. He just wasn't willing to do it for me.
Since he was no longer my personal doctor, I wouldn't want him as my husband, either.
*****
When I got home, the kitchen light was on.
Keith was standing by the stove stirring the pot. The pumpkin soup had already cooked down to a soft, creamy consistency.
Hearing the door open, he turned around, and the moment he saw my slightly swollen face, his brows immediately furrowed.
"You got it extracted? Why didn't you let me know? Is the pain bad?"
As he spoke, he turned off the stove, washed his hands, and walked over to me.
The second his fingers touched my chin, I turned my head away.
His hand hung in midair.
"Still holding a grudge? I shouldn't have said this morning. You had a toothache, and I really shouldn't have made you book an appointment on your own."
An ice pack and painkillers were laid out on the table, next to a list of dietary restrictions the doctor had given me.
"Didn't you say you don't want to work overtime after your shift ends?"
Keith leaned down and kissed my forehead.
"You're not just a patient to me. Patients go through the standard process, but my wife obviously gets special treatment."
Keith seldom set foot in the kitchen, so seeing him roll up his sleeves to cook for me today warmed my heart, and a jumble of feelings quietly welled up inside.
Maybe he was just looking out for a subordinate today, and I was being too sensitive.
I had just sat down when his phone lit up. Keith glanced at it, then immediately went to ladle the soup.
He tested the temperature of the soup to make sure it wasn't too hot, then poured it into a thermos and snapped the lid shut.
I asked, "Isn't that for me?"
"Isn't everything left in the pot yours?"
He smiled.
"This is for Joyce. She just had dental work done, so she can only eat liquid food. I had some free time, so I made a little extra for her."
He was too busy to check his own wife's tooth, but free enough to make soup for someone else?
Keith put the thermos into a bag. Seeing that I didn't say anything, he turned back and hugged me.
"Are you really jealous? She just graduated and panics over the smallest thing. You're more independent than her. That's why I don't worry about you."
I slowly pulled my hand away. "Go ahead."
Keith grabbed the thermos and headed straight out the door.
*****
Half an hour later, Joyce updated her social media.
The photo featured that very thermos, with the caption: Dr. Jenkins's special sick-day meal.
A reply popped up under the post soon after: Go to bed early after eating. You have to assist in surgery tomorrow.
I looked down at the soup in front of me, which had already cooled down, and my mind drifted back to 5 years ago.
Back then, Keith was terrified of medical instruments. I brought home a bag of oranges every day.
He practiced picking up orange peels with tweezers, while I sat beside him eating the flesh.
Every time he failed to get a good grip on a piece, I would replace it with a new one.
When he finally managed to hold the first piece of orange peel steady with the tweezers, he was so overjoyed that he lifted me right off my chair in a hug.
"Honey, when I get through this, I'll make up for all the hardships you've put up with all these years."
*****
That night, I reopened the overseas job offer I had received 3 months prior.
The position was based in Vanconia, with a 3-year term.
At the very bottom of the page sat the response to the offer I had never gotten around to sending.
I stared at it for a moment, then hit Send.
Fiona: I accept this overseas appointment.
Once the email was sent successfully, I stood up and poured the remaining half pot of soup into the trash bin.
