“How’s Patricia today?” I asked as I set the table.

“Tired. The doctors said she needs absolute peace right now.”

“I’d like to come tomorrow. I miss her.”

Michael paused with his fork halfway to his mouth.

“Actually, honey, about that.” His voice became smooth and careful. “From now on, I think it’s better if I go alone. Mom needs peace. The drive is long. Too many visitors stress her out.”

“But I’m not just a visitor, Michael. I’m her daughter-in-law.”

“I know, I know.” Michael reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Trust me. This is what’s best for her.”

I nodded slowly, swallowing the small, sharp feeling that had lodged itself behind my ribs.

That night, lying beside Michael in the dark, I listened to his breathing and felt the first thin crack spread through the foundation of our marriage.

The next morning, I packed a small bag with Patricia’s favorite tea and reading glasses. I stood by the door with my coat already on.

“Michael, I’m coming with you today.”

He stopped at the mirror, adjusting his tie too carefully. “Sweetheart, we talked about this. The doctors said that too many visitors stress her out. Let me handle it.”

“Ah, all right.”

He turned and kissed my forehead, the way he always did when he wanted a conversation to be over. “And you’re an angel for caring. But the drive is brutal, and you’ve been exhausted. Let me carry this one for you.”

I let him leave. I always let him leave.

That afternoon, I wrote another check for three thousand dollars and pushed it across the kitchen counter.

“The rehab wing again?” I asked Michael.

“They’re charging us for the physical therapy now. Insurance won’t touch it.”

“Michael, that’s the fourth check this month.”