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 colleagues and acquaintances. The room looked like a square in springtime. The two Evas took turns keeping me company while forcing Roman to rest.

***

My recovery was faster than they expected. I had physical therapy in the morning and afternoon: walking, deep breathing, regaining strength. My body obeyed with stubborn dignity. Every day I made progress toward a full recovery.

While I was making progress, the Evas were scheming behind my back: they visited halls, looked at flowers, chose music.