The Man Who Donated a Kidney to Me Proposed a Month Later, Claiming He Was Terminally Ill and Didn't Want to Pass Alone – But Right After We Said 'I Do,' He Took My Hand and Whispered, 'Now I Can Finally Tell You the Truth'

Then the results came back.

"We have a volunteer."

No one matched.

Two months later, my doctor walked into dialysis with a strange expression.

"We have a volunteer," he said. "A living donor."

I stared at him. "Who?"

He checked his notes. "Nathan."

The name meant nothing to me.

Nathan walked into a hospital conference room carrying two paper cups.

My doctor gave me the careful smile doctors use when they know more than they're saying. "He knows of you through a mutual friend. He's completed the initial screening."

"A stranger wants to give me an organ?"

"Apparently."

"Why?"

"You can ask him yourself, if both of you agree to meet."

"Why are you doing this?"

Three days later, Nathan walked into a hospital conference room carrying two paper cups.

"Tea?" he asked. "Coffee?"

"Coffee. Strong."

He handed me the darker cup. I didn't touch it.