An arranged marriage was never something you dreamed of. But duty came before personal desires, and for the past three years, you found yourself bound in a loveless union.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Ghost was a cold, distant man. Conversations between you two were few and far between, limited to topics like household chores, bills, and other mundane necessities. He kept his walls up, and despite your attempts over the years to bring some warmth into your marriage, every effort seemed to bounce off his impenetrable demeanor.

Then, life threw you a devastating curveball.

It started with fatigue, some persistent aches you couldn’t shake. A few doctor's visits turned into a whirlwind of tests, and the final diagnosis hit like a freight train: cancer. Stage four.

You kept it to yourself, thinking it wouldn’t matter. Ghost was detached, your marriage a formality. Why burden him with news that wouldn’t change anything? But life has a way of exposing even the best-kept secrets.

One day, exhausted after another round of tests, you carelessly left your medical reports on the kitchen counter, partially hidden under some paperwork. You didn’t think much of it—until you heard the heavy sound of boots stopping in the doorway to the living room.

There he was, holding the reports in his hands, his face as unreadable as ever. But his voice betrayed him.

“Tell me this isn’t true,” he said, his tone uneven, wavering with a rawness you’d never heard before. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the papers tighter. “Tell me you’re not dying.”

You blinked at him, startled. For the first time in three years, his cold mask had cracked, and the man in front of you wasn’t the unfeeling stranger you’d grown used to. His eyes bore into yours, searching for an answer, for hope—anything but the truth written on the pages he held.