He was the man my parents picked out for me when we were both toddlers. I never particularly wanted to marry him, but didn't find anyone I preferred.
The wedding was well attended.
He was kind, well meaning, if a little unsure of himself at first. I never pushed him too hard, but I did my best to help.
His career was well regarded.
He was apologetic when he became sick, not willing to accept that I had accepted it. On his death bed, he asked if I had truly ever loved him.
His death was, well, upsetting.
For him.
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