Chapter 1 - Four Hours
"Say it again."
Dr. Osei smiled from across his desk. "The scans show no evidence of disease, Rosalind."
I shook my head. "No. The other part."
He understood immediately. "At this moment, we see no evidence of cancer."
A laugh escaped me and turned into a sob before I could stop it. I covered my mouth, overwhelmed by eleven months of fear releasing all at once.
Beside me, Warren sat completely still, hands clasped between his knees.
I turned to him. "You heard him, right?"
"I heard."
No smile. No tears. He didn't reach for my hand. I told myself he was simply overwhelmed.
For nearly a year, cancer had controlled everything. Warren stopped working during treatment, while I rearranged my entire existence around appointments, prescriptions, insurance calls, and hospital visits. Some mornings after a night shift I'd sit in the driveway too exhausted to remember why I'd driven home.
During the worst nights, Warren would squeeze my hand. "When this is over, I'm going to spend the rest of my life making this up to you."
I never wanted him to repay me. I only wanted him alive. And now he was.
Dr. Osei reviewed the follow-up schedule while I carefully wrote down every instruction. Lists had become my way of managing fear — if something could be written down, I could pretend it was under control.
Eventually he stood. "I'll give you two a few minutes. The nurse will bring the final paperwork."
When the door closed, I stacked the papers neatly. "Okay. You sign this one, I think this page is mine."
Warren didn't move.
"I'm calling in sick Saturday," I said.
That finally got a reaction. "You never call in sick."
"Exactly. We're celebrating irresponsibly. I'll cook."
"Don't."
I stopped. "Don't what?"
"Rosalind."
Something in his tone made me set down the pen. "What?"
He looked directly at me. "I want a divorce."
For a moment my brain refused to process the sentence. I looked down at the papers and straightened one. "You still need to sign the follow-up sheet."
"Rosalind."
"And we should put your next scan in both our calendars."
"Did you hear me?"
I placed the pen on the table slowly. "You've been cancer-free for about four hours."
"I know."
"Then maybe wait until dinner before destroying my life."
His expression tightened. "I'm serious."
I searched his face for an explanation, a problem, anything I could repair. "What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Then tell me why."
"My decision is final."
"That's interesting, because I remember there being two people in this marriage."
"I'll get my things tonight."
That sentence hurt even more than the word divorce. He had already planned this.
"Why?"
He looked away. I stood. "No. You don't get to announce this and then stare at the wall. Tell me why."
"I'm sorry, Rosalind. Really."
I laughed once. "You're sorry?"
"I've waited long enough."
Then he walked out. For once, I didn't follow him. I didn't fix anything. I simply sat there until the words on the medical forms blurred through my tears.
A few minutes later, Dr. Osei appeared in the doorway. "Rosalind?"
I wiped my face. "Is he gone?"
"Yes. He asked reception to call him a cab."
I looked at him. "Did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That my husband was apparently waiting to beat cancer before leaving me."
He pulled a chair closer. "No. Warren never told me he intended to do this today."
"But?"
He hesitated. "There's something you should know."
My whole body tensed. "What?"
"A few weeks ago, Warren gave me permission to tell you something if he ever followed through with leaving."
"He planned this with you?"
"No. But he was worried you stayed because you felt responsible for him."
"Responsible?"
"He thought his illness had made it impossible for you to leave."
Anger hit me instantly. "I worked nights. I drove him here when I could barely keep my eyes open. I sat beside him when he couldn't even stand. And he thinks that was pity?"
Dr. Osei held my gaze. "Why he believes that is something Warren needs to explain."
Then an old memory surfaced. An email. A consultation. One night before the diagnosis I had tried very hard to forget.
I grabbed my purse.
May you like
"Rosalind, you don't have to solve this tonight."
I almost smiled. He clearly didn't know me very well. "I know." Then I drove home to solve it anyway.
