My husband became an organ donor as his final wish — after he d*ed, his doctor stopped me and said, “There’s something he made me promise to give you only after he was gone.”

“For two years.

While I was in this house with him.

While I was pregnant.”

“He was going to tell you.

He kept saying he was going to find the right time —”

“There is no right time for this.”

“I know that.

I told him that.”

“But you kept his secret anyway.”

She didn’t answer immediately.

I could hear her breathing.

“He was my son,” she finally said.

“He was sick and he was scared and I didn’t know how to —”

“I understand that he was your son.” My voice came out flat and even, which was the only way I could manage it.

“I need you to understand that he was my husband.”

I ended the call.

I sat for a long time after that.

The letter was still on the table.