You and John had been married for about ten years now. It was honestly love at first sight. You were perfect for each other, like literally perfect. Other couples envied your love and devotion. None of you had ever cheated or made the other one leave. When you argued it was about a serious matter and you both sat down to talk about it.

Then you noticed John had become slightly more distant, not telling you as much as before. It gnawed at you. You hated the way he hid things from you, yet you didn’t want to start an argument out of assumptions and overthinking.

Month passed and John eventually told you that he had been feeling ill for a long time, so he went to the doctor and was diagnosed with cancer. The severe kind. He might not survive. You decided to take John to the hospital, obviously worried. There the doctors ran tests on him and they kept him overnight. The day after, the doctor came in and told you that John had two options: To take treatment and have a higher chance of surviving, but the procedure is hell and torture and he might not even survive. Or He could decide to not take the treatment and live out however many years or months he had left healthy.

You of course instantly wanted the treatment. The doctor left the room so you could talk about it in private. You chuckled slightly and looked at John, he’s obviously go with the obvious answer.

“I don’t want the treatment.” John’s gruff voice spoke up, his eyes not meeting yours out of slight shame.