• People often assume that my best friend and I are sisters, but our connection is a little different.
• She's the now ex-wife of my ex-husband, though we connected while they were still together.
• She has become my person, the one I turn to in good times and bad.

When my best friend Shelley and I are out together, people often ask if we are sisters, even though we look nothing alike. Shelley has dark hair, dark eyes, and very fair skin, and while I also have fair skin, I'm a blue-eyed blonde. We get the question so frequently that it's almost comedic.

"No," we tell whoever is asking, "we're ex-wives-in-law."

This always gets a laugh, and when we explain our story, it brings a moment of levity to whomever we've encountered.

Behind what we've made into a little joke for public consumption is a unique bond that a lot of people wouldn't understand. It's a bond forged by trials, reinforced by implicit trust and devotion, and topped off with a whole lot of laughter and joy.

Our connection is unique

"Our Husband," as we call him, was intent on Shelley and me getting to know each other before they married. He and I have two sons, and Shelley has two sons from a previous marriage who are about the same age as my boys.

This meant that we had many of the same interests as boy moms by default, but, as it turned out, we also shared many of the same tastes in music, art, and books.

One milestone event of my life occurred early in Shelley's marriage to Our Husband. Shelley and I went to see Prince in concert together shortly before his death. I will never forget that night, and I'm so thankful that I got to see him perform live. In retrospect, I could see the spark of our friendship starting to glow that night.

Strangely enough, though, the night that I count as the true beginning of our friendship was the night that the Diane Sawyer interview featuring Caitlyn Jenner aired. For me, this was one of those events in the cultural zeitgeist that seemed like it should be witnessed with someone else. As it happened, all four of our boys were on the swim team together, and the program aired on the night of a meet. So, I forced the situation. Our Husband was working that evening, and I told her I'd be over with food to cook dinner for all of us. I came to her house — the house that she shared with Our Husband, who was my ex, of course — and we made dinner for ourselves and the boys, drank some wine, and watched the interview. Our friendship grew from there.

Not everyone was on board at first

Shelley told me much later that she initially thought it was weird that, as Our Husband's ex-wife, I was so intent on being her friend.

She says her mother told her, "I think you might as well give in, I think she has decided you are friends." The truth is, I just plain liked her, and we had a lot in common, but her mom was right. I wasn't going anywhere.

The relationship evolved

Sadly, Shelley's marriage to Our Husband ended after four years. She has said that I put her back together after that all happened. I don't look at it that way. I simply was there for my friend. She emerged after that crisis like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon, and our friendship grew, battle-hardened, to a new level. Through all this, we shared parenting crises and triumphs, career battles and successes, and personal health scares.

Then, together, we went through something foundationally shattering for both of us. We both cared for our aging mothers, and connected even more deeply after they both died.

For a daughter, losing a mother is a life-changing event. On top of that, being a family caregiver, being involved in the deeply draining day-to-day process of shepherding a loved one toward and through their transition in death, is a solemn responsibility, the parameters of which are indescribable to anyone who hasn't experienced it.

As it happened, just by circumstance, Shelley walked those paths ahead of me and alongside me, and we held each other together through tears and laughter along the way. Shelley's mother died on March 18, 2019. My mother died on March 16, three years later. Shortly after she passed, Shelley, Our Husband, and I sat in my living room and toasted her with a round of her favorite drink, gin and tonics, in recognition of the valiant battle she had just completed.

Our Husband had thoughts

So how does Our Husband feel about Shelley and I being so close? For him, it's been kind of like the five stages of grief. First, he tried to deny that we were actually friends. Surely, we were just pretending to be friends — certainly, this was just a charade, we were just doing this to spite him. Then came anger. Apparently, we were friends, which just wasn't appropriate in his view. Next, there was bargaining. If we'd stop seeing each other, he'd be nicer. Then, of course, depression. Yes, Shelley and I were friends, and that just sucked. Now, there is acceptance. Sometimes, he refers to her as my "girlfriend."

Of course, a lot of time has passed, and I like to think that all three of us have grown a great deal. Shelley and Our Husband have been divorced for 10 years. My relationship with Our Husband has gone through many evolutions. He and I have been divorced for 14 years and apart for 17. Above all else, he gave me the greatest gift one human being can ever give another in making me a mother, and we have two wonderful sons who are young men now, out in society, being productive citizens.

Little did he know he'd also give me another wonderful gift when he got divorced for a second time. He gave me my best friend for life, my person.

• I'm Gen Z and have always valued rest, leisure, and finding balance in my life.
• My 86-year-old grandfather has worked as a doctor for 60 years and refuses to retire.
• His dedication has changed how I think about ambition, purpose, and growing older.

As a Gen Z, I have struggled with my work ethic. I have learned to optimize leisure, travel, and rest, and to get into a flow state. However, my grandfather's work ethic has made me rethink my approach.

At 86, my grandfather refuses to retire. For the past 60 years, he has woken up at the same time every morning, showered, dressed immaculately, had breakfast, and left for his work as a general physician in his private clinic.

Barring sickness and rare travel, he has never taken a day off, never deviated from schedule, and has an enviable work ethic that I have not seen in anyone. My grandmother, who was 70, died last year, and he was back to work in a week.

He is the eldest son

Born in 1940 in the small town of Gonda in North India, he was the eldest of six younger siblings. In 1966, at the age of 26, he began his medical practice after completing his MBBS.

From the beginning, he has been focused on his career and his responsibilities as the eldest son of a South Asian family. He worked in big hospitals, then opened a private practice a few years later, and he also established a Rotary Club Chapter in his city, leading it many times in the decades that followed.

There has always been a deep sense of empathy in him, which has made him a very considerate doctor for those who are economically marginalized. Because he charged less, took his time to understand each patient's issue, and prescribed medicines with great care, he gained popularity in his city very soon.

After six decades, the patients who were once young men and women bring their grandchildren from different cities to be treated by him. Only two years ago, he scaled back his work, working only till lunch. So now many patients come home in an emergency. "I don't like turning them away. Helping them makes me feel elated," he told me in one of our weekly phone calls.

He doesn't want to retire

From his work, he built a home for his parents and siblings, and another for his wife and children. He paid for the education of most of his siblings and put down a significant sum when it was time for them to get married. In short, he has been responsible for every role and relationship in his life.

He has three kids, two daughters and a son. They feel as if he should take it easy. "Why don't you retire?" My mother asked him a few years ago, and he shook his head vigorously, as if the thought itself was impossible.

"There were friends who were much healthier than me. They retired early, and I have seen many of them pass away," was his response to my mom. He also feels that being in a perpetual state of rest will dull his senses. Barring a partial hearing loss in one ear and a decrease in activity level due to age, he is fit and completely Independent.

He makes time to enjoy life

He can decide if he ever wants to retire because he has built his own practice, which is a privilege. However, he hasn't denied himself the pleasures of life either. He took time off to go on vacations and spent dedicated time with his kids, parents, and wife.

From him, I am learning that having a work ethic also means having a deep respect for your own life. It is not just dedication to his work; his ethic showcases his will to live as long as he can, independently. I want to live a purposeful and robust life, helping and guiding others and being of use till it's time to go. I want to eat clean, work out every day, put in the work to nurture my ambition, spend time with my loved ones, and focus on my goals. His work ethic has also shown me how he values his time. He nourishes it, nurtures it, and uses it to build a better life for himself. An honorable relationship with time and hard work has led him here.

He wants to be a functional part of society, and it has given me a fresh perspective on how I want to live my life. It is an odd thought, but I aspire to have a work ethic just like his and not retire.