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'

"Still an idiot."

He pulled the curtain closed behind him. "Then you owe me something."

Nathan, somehow, recovered fast.

I looked up. "What?"

"Use it well."

The operation worked. My new kidney started functioning almost immediately.

When I woke up, Nathan was alive.

Nathan, somehow, recovered fast enough to become annoying.

He visited my room wearing hospital socks and carrying contraband pudding.

After discharge, he kept showing up.

"You look terrible," he said.

"You donated the kidney, not your manners."

"Those were never eligible."

I laughed, then grabbed my side. "Don't make me laugh."

"Finally, leverage."

After discharge, he kept showing up.

One evening, rain trapped us under the awning outside my building.

Sometimes with groceries. Sometimes with books. Once with a plant I nearly killed.

"You saved me and now you're assigning homework?" I asked.