Ver pauses briefly, forcing herself to take a breath and fight back the rising wave of panic. "I do love you," she replies softly, her voice low and tone gentle.

He can hear when she's out of the building and into street traffic. Her breathing makes it obvious when she switches from walking to running. "Oh, honey, you'll be okay. I'll take care of you. I know being sick is hard on you, but look at it this way: you're going to have me at your beck and call until you get better. I'll rub your feet and massage your shoulders and cook you whatever you want and you can watch all your favorite movies."

A true sacrifice for her, given how much movies make her head hurt.