I met her a few times. She was nice. Quiet. I was one of the more junior students and she would occasionally give me words of encouragement.
But what endeared her to me was the way she interacted with him. A comfortable familiarity, an unspoken bond they never overtly displayed in public but kept hidden between them, a secret they shared as if to reveal it was to spoil it.
Sometimes, they’d talk about their kids. They were getting older. Getting married. Moving out.
When they found the cancer in her body, he suspended classes immediately. He told us we could find new teachers with his blessing. I looked up their address and sent a basket filled with pâté and dipping oils. That was over a year ago.
And as much as I’d like to do something, anything to make him feel better — offer my condolences, tell him he has an ear — there isn’t anything I can do. Nothing will make up for his loss.
Our bond will remain unspoken too.

