"I am the luckiest man alive," I think to myself as I sit staring at the blank computer screen in my office. I don't think I'll ever get used to calling Dana my wife.
She has stayed with me through the hardest years of my life. She gave me strength as I lost my family piece by piece. Held me up as my reputation grew steadily worse. I saw her hold her chin up and studiously ignore the whispered comments in the corridors. The years of sudden silences when she entered a room, and of giggles behind hands in the cafeteria. She weathered it all. Her reputation was damaged too of course, but less so
Even when I lost my job and she was left to support us she never gave in. We both saw the raised eyebrows when her bump began to show. We knew what everyone was thinking but she was too strong to let it get to her.
Now I watch proudly as she teaches our son to walk, feeds him home cooked meals she puréed herself, sings him to sleep at night. So I was forced out of the work I loved, I still couldn't be happier coming home to her every night.
Her voice calls out to me from downstairs.
"Daniel! Can you come and help in the kitchen?" I sigh and rise from my desk, heading downstairs to help. Thank God I talked her out of that job at the FBI.