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'

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

I started wanting him there even when I didn't need him.

Nathan looked at me and said, "You know you can stop thanking me."

"I haven't thanked you today."

"Your face has."

I smiled. "Rude."

"Accurate."

Nathan knocked on my door after dark.

This was the dangerous part: I started wanting him there even when I didn't need him.

A month after the transplant, Nathan knocked on my door after dark.

No groceries. No book. No joke.

He stood in the hallway with both hands in his coat pockets.

"Can I come in?"

I stepped aside.

He sat at my kitchen table and stared at the fern.