“The first line says…” My voice cracked. “‘I married Rosie because I made a promise that changed my entire life.'”
I looked at him in disbelief.
“What promise?”
He closed his eyes for a moment.
“It started when we were nine.”
The sounds of hospital monitors drifted through the hallway.
“I’ve never told anyone this.”
I folded my arms.
“I’m listening.”
He leaned against the wall.
“You remember the day Rosie disappeared at the county fair?”
Of course I remembered.
Our parents had searched frantically for nearly an hour before a security guard found her sitting beside a fountain, calmly feeding birds.
“I was the one who found her first,” Ben said quietly.
“You?”
He nodded.
“She wasn’t scared.”
“She thought everyone else was lost.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
“That sounds like Rosie.”
Ben smiled too.
“When I told her your parents were looking everywhere, she grabbed my hand.”
His voice softened.
“She asked me something I’ll never forget.”
“What?”
“‘Will people always think I’m broken?'”
My heart sank.
“I told her no.”
He swallowed hard.
“Then she asked another question.”
“‘Will somebody ever love me enough to marry me?'”
Tears welled in my eyes.
“I was nine years old.”
“I didn’t know what marriage really meant.”
“So I said…”
“‘If nobody else does… I will.'”
Silence settled between us.
I stared at him.
“You married her because of something you promised as a child?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I married her because twenty years later…”
“…I realized it wasn’t just a promise anymore.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
He laughed softly.
“I spent most of high school trying to convince myself I was in love with you.”
The words stung.
“But every important memory I had…”
“…Rosie was somehow part of it.”
“When I got accepted into college…”
“She baked me cookies.”
“When I lost my grandfather…”
“She sat beside me for three hours without saying a word because she knew I didn’t want to talk.”
“When I lost my job…”
“She left encouraging notes inside my lunchbox every morning.”
He looked toward the operating room doors.
“She never tried to impress people.”
“She just loved them.”
I felt tears rolling down my face.
“But people judged you.”
“They judged us.”
“They said I must have some hidden reason.”
“They assumed she couldn’t understand love.”
“They assumed I couldn’t possibly choose this life.”
He smiled sadly.
“They never understood that Rosie saw people more clearly than anyone I’ve ever met.”
I looked at the paper again.
“Then why write it like this?”
He unfolded the page.
“Keep reading.”
My hands shook.
Below the first sentence was another.
If you’re reading this, please don’t let my first sentence fool you. I didn’t marry Rosie out of pity. I married her because she taught me what love actually looks like.
My chest tightened.
“There are more pages.”
He handed me the rest.
Most of them weren’t written by Ben.
They were letters.
From Rosie.
The earliest one was dated five years before their wedding.
“I asked Ben not to propose to me until he could answer one question honestly.”
I kept reading.
“If one