When I was 18, I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.

I got the phone call while sitting in my ex-boyfriend’s car. One day, a little over a year later, in fact, he’d be my husband. But in that moment, he was something like my friend but not. He was comfortable and familiar and even while we wandered, dated new people, connected our names with an “and” to others, we kept each other in sight.

He’d had a job interview and I’d had a broken down car and classes I was already late for. I decided, for...