For days, Joseph was running around, frantically trying to resolve one problem after another. Without my help, he had to handle everything himself.

He appeared calm, but only I could see the simmering volcano beneath the surface.

I had helped him with so much over the years. Could he really forget that?

In the past few days, he volunteered to attend various receptions, volunteered to give toasts, and drank himself into a stupor, only when he was in a drunken stupor, he would look at the wedding photos we had taken and cried.

But those crocodile tears—pathetic. Watching him clutch his stomach in agony, his face twisted in pain, I...