She took care of him.

It was her job, as his assistant. She was the one who brought him his coffee. She was the one who managed his phone calls. She was the one who listened to his ranting every day, and she was the one who told him he was right about all of it, and she was the one who solved his problems with a smile and a "Yes, sir!"

It was more than her job. She was the one who laid out his clothes in a safe place every night so they wouldn't be disturbed by their after-hours activities. She was the one who knew exactly how to touch him to give him his best experiences. She was the one who kissed him, and she was the one who loved him, and she was the one who straightened his tie in the morning before burying herself in his strong arms and fresh scent.

It was harder than her job. She was the one who acted as his crutch when walking was too hard. She was the one who made sure he got to every doctor's appointment. She was the one who gave him his pills, and she was the one who helped him use the bathroom, and she was the one who offered him her hand to squeeze when the pain became too much.

He kissed her forehead as her head pounded, her body curved over whatever papers could keep his—their—company alive. For now it was all he could do, but he'd do more someday.

He'd take care of her.