He held her, tried to absorb her grief. Waited until she'd calmed and took her chin in his hand, stared into her huge wet eyes. Smoothed back her hair, kissed tear-streaked cheeks, and forgot the pain.
"I'm not ruined, Shosheleh. I'm very, very whole. Please believe that. Abba doesn't lie to you, does he?" A shake of the head.
"Then believe me, please, sweetie. I'm whole, complete. No man could be more complete. Do you believe me?"
Nod.
He cradled her in his arms, remembering baby days, changing diapers, spoon-feeding mush, the first clumsy steps, inevitable pratfalls. The privilege of watching it-watching all of them.
The room grew dark. Daniel said, "Get me my siddur, motek. It's time to pray ma'ariv."
While she fetched the prayerbook, he recited a silent modeh ani-thanking the Almighty for restoring his soul. A morning prayer, twelve hours too late.
But it felt like morning.