With slow, sleepy motions, she slips off me, rubbing the crust from her eyes, still cloaked in the haze of morning. “Go get in the shower. I’ll have your coffee and breakfast ready,” she promises, voice thick with sleep but tender as always. She’s irresistibly adorable first thing in the morning.

Every day, no matter the hour, she wakes with me, her love a quiet ritual. She sends me out the door with hot coffee and a scorching kiss, insisting I feel nothing but comfort and ...