The ring fit perfectly on a finger that lacked happy stories. Roman kissed my hand, his joy was real.

Two days later, they moved me to a private room. Continuous monitoring, but without machines dominating the air. The hospital staff already knew us: the woman in the ICU who was going to be a mother, the lover who never left the door. They allowed Roman to spend the nights on a reclining sofa instead of the cold benches in the hallway.

Flowers began to arrive in waves. Bouquets with cards from