I turned around.
Dr. Rivers was hurrying toward me.
He looked pale.
And he was holding something behind his back.
An envelope.
“There’s something Mark made me promise to give you,” he said.
I stared at him.
“What is it?”
He brought the envelope forward.
My name was written across the front in Mark’s familiar, uneven handwriting.
“Sally.”
My fingers immediately began to tremble.
“He gave me this three weeks ago,” Dr. Rivers said quietly. “He was very specific. You weren’t supposed to see it while he was alive.”
I couldn’t speak.
Because by then, my husband was already gone.
And I had no idea what he had been preparing for while I was standing beside him, believing we still had more time.
Mark and I had been married for three years when I finally became pregnant with the baby we had always wanted.
We had imagined that moment so many times that, when it finally happened, it almost didn’t feel real.
We talked about everything.
