David
It’s been ten days since Andrew’s myocardial infarction and stroke. Ten days of endless hospital visits, medical consultations, and listening to his lectures on “doing the right thing.” I helped finalize his discharge procedures today and watched as the nurses wheeled him to his car.
Before I could leave, Andrew grabbed my arm, his grip firmer than expected for someone who had just been hospitalized. “David,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “do right by your marriage.”
I snorted, pulling my arm free. “You? Telling me how to run my marriage?” I couldn’t help the bitterness in my tone. “This coming from the man who devoted his life to Jasmine but still found time to meddle in mine?”
Andrew’s expression didn’t change. “I’ve never claimed to be perfect. But whatever I did to s
