Chapter 1Before the Light Fades

My husband, Julian, is a name whispered in awe in the halls of science.

During an interview about his life, the topic turned to his relationships. He stated, coolly:

"I do not believe I am a suitable partner."

"Under no circumstances would I ever place sentiment first."

"I am only willing to dedicate my finite time to the pursuit of infinite science."

After the program aired, he was met with a chorus of praise for his fearless dedication.

I, however, quietly folded away my latest medical report.

I had cancer. Terminal.

The days he would spend in London, accepting his award, would be my last on this earth.

* * *

The last thing I remember before my consciousness faded was the blinding glare of the surgical lamp. And when my spirit detached, able to see the entire operating room, I watched as the line on the heart monitor beside my bed went flat.

That's when it dawned on me.

I was dead.