My husband appeared on the baby monitor every night at 2 a.m. carrying a mysterious paper bag—when I finally watched him open it, I gasped

smiled back.

“No,” he said. “Now I’m documenting the recovery.”

Then he showed me the latest line.

“This is the night your mother and I finally started saving each other.”

I cried when I read it because he had saved me just as much as I had saved him.

But beneath the tears, I also felt calm. The kind of peace that comes when you realize love did not fail continue reading …