Chapter 2

2

I stayed in the hospital for three days.

Silas showed up every day on the dot, carrying a thermal container.

"The hospital cafeteria's nutritional meal. Twelve dollars a serving. It hits all the required dietary standards."

He set the food out and then produced a small notebook.

"The hospital fees, medication, and nursing costs for these three days total $8,950. I have covered it for now. We will settle the balance once the insurance check arrives."

I had no appetite. I just stared at him.

"What is it? Is the food not to your liking?" He frowned. "Or do you think my math is off?"

"Silas," I said softly. "Do you remember our anniversary gifts?"

He clearly didn't expect the question. After a moment of thought, he pulled a folder from his briefcase.

"Of course I do."

He flipped to a page and pointed at a log.

"Year three: I gave you a necklace worth $500. You gave me a watch worth $520. Your gift exceeded the budget by $20, which I classified as emotional surplus and did not bill to the joint account."

"Year five, this year: We swapped perfumes. Mine was $90, yours was $105. A difference of $15. You Venmoed me the balance that same day."

His records were accurate to the penny.

I laughed. I laughed until tears started to fall.

"I am not talking about those."

"I am talking about the first year. That little succulent plant you gave me."

He looked confused.

"That succulent cost $15. The pot was $5, and the soil was $3. Total of $23. We split it, and you paid $11.50."

I spoke each word slowly, my heart aching.

"It died because you insisted on using a measuring cup to give it exactly five milliliters of water every day."

"Plants are like people, Silas. They don't need precision. They need love."

Silas adjusted his glasses, looking uncomfortable.

"Joelle, what are you talking about? That was just a failed botanical experiment. What does that have to do with us?"

"Everything."

I looked him straight in the eyes. "Because you treat me just like that plant."

"You gave me everything you thought was standard and logical, but you never gave me the one thing I actually wanted: warmth."

He went silent. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor.

After a long time, he spoke in a stiff voice.

"My mother is coming to see you."

"She made you chicken soup. She used a heritage hen from her own yard, market value about $40. She said we don't have to pay for it. Consider it a gift."

I closed my eyes, exhausted.

"Tell her not to come."

"Why?" Silas asked, puzzled. "She made it specifically for you."

"Because I don't want to finish a bowl of soup and then have to calculate exactly how many grams of gratitude I owe her."