“Hey,” I said one evening, finding him at the sink, “don’t overdo it with helping your juniors. If you keep working overtime like this, you’ll exhaust yourself.”

He turned, wiping his hands on a towel, and gave me a weary smile. “I know, but I can’t help myself. I just end up helping.”

As I changed into my loungewear, a delicious smell wafted in from the kitchen. James’s original fried rice, my absolute favorite. It was his way of saying I love you without words. I grabbed a can of beer from the fridge and my eyes fell on the calendar hanging on the wall. A big, red circle was drawn around the 10th.