The evening before our wedding, I gently explored his features with my fingertips.
“You have a strong jaw,” I said softly.
“Is that good?” he asked.
“I think so. You feel steady.”
He kissed my palm. “I am.”
Eventually, we welcomed two
children, Ethan and Rose.
I memorized their faces through touch while Nigel continued advancing in his medical career.
He specialized in complicated optic nerve reconstruction, frequently working late into the night in his home office.
Sometimes I’d awaken around two in the morning and discover his side of the bed empty.
“Stay in bed,” I’d mumble when he finally slid under the covers.
“I’m close,” he would whisper. “I’m so close to something big.”
I assumed he was pursuing a breakthrough for another patient.
I never suspected the truth.
Then, after twenty years of blindness, Nigel made an extraordinary announcement.
