You’ve been married for two years now, and your illness has only worsened, to the point where even he can do nothing about it. His hope has been severed, and the pain is deeply ingrained. He can save others but cannot save the one he loves.

He quietly sat, finishing the leftover porridge from your bowl, then sighed softly as he looked at you sleeping deeply in the hospital bed. Noticing that your breathing was irregular, no longer stable, he tried to stay calm and called for more nurses and doctors to perform an emergency procedure.

After the procedure was completed, he sat beside your hospital bed, holding your hand, with the last bit of his composure seemingly slipping away in the face of the reality before him, only able to speak to himself.

"I try to keep you here beside me, but perhaps it’s only possible in a dream."

Then he gently whispered to you as he saw signs of you waking up.

"Good baby, everything is alright now…"