Love Past Its Prime

Summary

In our seventh year of marriage, I walked into Mercy General Hospital with an insulated thermos of hot soup, just like I did every other week.

Passing by the doctors' lounge, I heard the boisterous laughter of his colleagues. One of the surgical residents was loudly referring to a female patient as "Graham's better half" and "the wifey."

I stopped dead in my tracks. I listened closely, waiting for Graham to correct them. Instead, he just chuckled, silently accepting the title with a hint of amusement.