I married my patient knowing she had only three days left to live — but after her funeral, her sister approached me with a small box and whispered, “She made me promise not to give you this until she was gone.

She looked as though she already knew what I was about to discover.

I slowly opened the box.

And the very first thing I saw made me forget how to breathe.

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When I opened the wooden box, I saw an old photograph of two children standing outside a small hospital.

One of them was me.

I recognized my seven-year-old face immediately. I was wearing a blue sweater, and my front tooth was missing.

But it was the little girl standing beside me who made my hands shake.

I hadn’t seen that face in twenty-three years.

“Where did Alicia get this?” I whispered.

Her sister, Rebecca, looked away.

“Lucas, there’s something you need to know about my sister.”

I turned the photograph over.

On the back, someone had written:

Lucas and Ellie. Summer, 2003.

My knees almost gave way.

Ellie.

That was the name of my childhood best friend.