I followed him past a row of cells…no, worse, cages. More than half of them had men in them. Some of the patients rushed to hide in corners, others pressed their faces to the bars and stared. Most remained silent, but a few moaned and shouted for help.

A single word echoed through my head: purgatory. If it existed, it was this, and I was there. And so was my beloved.

I found Theo at the very end.

His cell held a stained mattress on the cement floor and a night pan tipped over next to the back wall, the totality of comforts he’d been afforded. A torn nightshirt hung off his bony shoulders. He stared into nothing—a wraith, a ghost of himself.

“Theo!”

I hadn’t meant to disturb him, only peek at him to ensure he wasn’t mistreated, but I could not help myself. The flowers fell from my hands, broken dry petals scattering like blossoms thrown onto a grave.

My dearest slowly turned his head.

An animal cry issued from his mouth, a howl of fury and despair, a sound of agonizing pain that entered my body and shredded its way through my chest.

“Theo…”

He picked up the night pan and hurled it at the bars with a soul-shattering clatter. I could find no love in his eyes, nor care, nor fondness. The mindless rage inside him was directed at me.

Why?

Was he mad at me?

I couldn’t fathom it. I loved him with all my heart. Yet what burned in his eyes was perilously close to hate.

The beginning of his mental anguish had been blaming himself for Vincent’s death. Did he now blame me?

Was I to blame?

Vincent had had Theo’s full support, full attention. Then I’d come along. And then little Wil. And I had asked for that larger apartment, to make living with a child easier.

The night of Vincent’s first visit with us, as I had lain in bed, I’d overheard the brothers in the kitchen.

“Tell me the truth. Am I a burden?” Vincent had asked.

My knees buckled.

The doctor kicked through the bars, rolling the night pan back.

“Lucky it was empty.” His tone held a strange satisfaction. I told you so.

I struggled for breath.

Theo shouted words that had no meaning, no beginning, no end. His raving upset the other men. They began to shake their bars and yell at us as well.

“Enough.” The doctor grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me stumbling out of there.

I couldn’t fight him. I had no strength left.

I must not lose hope.

My dearest will come back to me. He will come back to his wife and his son. We will move back home, to Paris, together. This darkness too shall pass.

I had to keep faith, both for myself and little Wil.