I was sitting at a long red light on my way to meet Caleb at the hospital, so I pulled out my phone to kill time. The top recommended post on Reddit caught my eye: [Life, Freedom, Love, and Money: How would you rank them?] The comments section was chaotic, but the vast majority ranked Money first. Only one comment stood out, completely at odds with the rest. "Love will always be my first choice. With love, everything else has meaning." Someone immediately replied mockingly: "Another hopeless romantic." But looking at that comment, a faint sense of agreement rippled through me. Of course love should come first. The love Caleb had given me had always been flawless. Amidst the chorus of cynical replies, the original commenter responded calmly: "If you were in my shoes, you'd choose the same." "Last year, I went into acute renal failure. He gave me one of his kidneys. At the time, he wasn't even my boyfriend; he was just my attending physician." My heart inexplicably skipped a beat. Last year, Caleb had also donated a kidney. To a patient he supposedly didn't even know. I had fiercely opposed it at the time, but he just coaxed me, saying: "Saving lives is a doctor's calling." My fingertips went cold. With a trembling hand, I scrolled down. "He only has one kidney left now, but in that department... he's still so intense it's hard to keep up." The comment continued, "Broad shoulders, narrow waist. Every night he tosses me around until my back aches." Attached below was a photo. Under the dim, amber glow of bathroom lighting, it showed a man's muscular back. On the left side of his waist, there was a faint bite mark. It was the bite mark I left on him when I was eighteen, punishing him for getting into a fistfight with a senior who had a crush on me. It wasn't until a chorus of honking horns erupted behind me that I snapped back to reality. I was still twenty minutes away from Caleb's hospital. I abruptly pulled the car onto a side street and turned off the eng