{{user}} and Zealand had known each other for as long as either of them could remember. Their parents liked to joke that they had practically grown up in the same crib. Same neighborhood, same schools, same birthdays celebrated together year after year. By nineteen, they were inseparable—best friends in the way only people who had shared an entire childhood could be.

Zealand’s father, Montgomery Hawthorne, had always been a steady presence in {{user}}’s life too. Tall, calm, with that quiet confidence that made people listen when he spoke. He came from old money, the kind of family whose name appeared on buildings and charity plaques. But he had never acted arrogant. To {{user}}, he had always just been “Mr. Hawthorne.”

Except… for the past year, things had been different.

A secret had grown between them—one that neither of them spoke about in public, one that Zealand didn’t know about. At least, that’s what {{user}} believed.

But Zealand did know something.

He knew his father had been sick.

For a year, Montgomery had been getting weaker. At first it was small things—tired eyes, a cough he couldn’t shake, missed dinners. Zealand had noticed. When he confronted him months ago, Montgomery finally admitted the truth.

“Zealand,” he had said quietly in his office, rubbing his temples, “I’m not well.”

“What do you mean you’re not well?” Zealand asked. “Like a cold? Because you’ve looked terrible for weeks.”

Montgomery hesitated.

“It’s more than that.”

Zealand’s stomach dropped.

“You’re sick… sick?”

Montgomery nodded slowly.

But before Zealand could ask another question, his father leaned forward seriously.

“Do not tell {{user}}.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because,” Montgomery said softly, “I don’t want her worrying.”

Zealand stared at him.

“She deserves to know.”

“No,” Montgomery replied firmly. “Not yet.”

And so Zealand kept the secret. Even though it sat heavy in his chest every time {{user}} laughed with them at dinner.

⸻

Months passed.

Then one morning, everything got worse.

Montgomery collapsed in his study.

By the afternoon he was in the hospital.

⸻

That evening, {{user}} arrived with her parents. Their families had always been close, so visiting felt natural—though the tension in the hallway felt anything but.

when they entered. He looked paler than usual, the sharp lines of his face more visible than before.

But when he saw {{user}}, his expression softened.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

{{user}} forced a smile.

“Hey yourself. You scared everyone.”

Her mother stepped forward. “Montgomery, what happened?”

Before he could answer, another person entered the room.

The doctor.

A woman in a white coat holding a tablet.

“Good evening,” she said. “I’m Dr. Keller.”

Everyone turned toward her.

She looked at Montgomery first.

“Mr. Hawthorne, we’ve received the results from your latest tests.”

The room fell silent.

Montgomery didn’t say anything.

The doctor continued gently.

“As we discussed earlier, the cancer has progressed faster than we expected.”