I worked two jobs to help fulfill my husband’s dream of becoming a doctor — at his graduation, he handed me divorce papers, but just as I was walking away, one of his classmates said, “Before you leave, there’s something you should know.”

Dr.

Okafor’s office was exactly as I remembered it.

The same wall of textbooks.

The same framed diagram of the cardiovascular system above the filing cabinet.

The same slightly too-bright overhead light that he had always meant to replace with something warmer and apparently never had.

He looked older.

So did I, probably.

“Sit down, Claire,” he said.

I sat.

“I pulled your file after you called,” he said.

He had a folder open on the desk.

“Your grades when you left were strong.

Your first-year evaluations were strong.

The note on your withdrawal says personal and financial circumstances.” He looked up.

“Do you want to tell me more about that now?”

“My husband needed to complete his degree,” I said.

“I left to support that.”