He blinked, taken aback. "Mik..."
"I married you," I said, more softly now. "Not your legs. Not what you lost. You. The man who tries, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts."
My husband's shoulders slumped a little.
"I didn't want you to look back and regret it," he said. "I didn't want your mother to be right."
My husband's shoulders slumped.
I glanced down the hallway where my mother had fallen silent. "She doesn't get to decide what my life looks like."
He let out a tired little laugh. "She's not subtle."
"It's a word for it."
***
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