The night had draped its curtains over the new house—the one you had long dreamed of. You decorated it with flowers and tiny lights, placed a small cake with white cream and strawberries on the table, and lit two candles.

But he hadn’t come home. The clock ticked past midnight. You had called him several times—no answer.

Then the phone rang. Unknown number.

"Hello?" Your voice trembling.

"Are you Mr. Adam’s wife? Your husband is in the emergency ward. Please come immediately."

You rushed to the hospital, your heart in chaos. A nurse led you to a doctor who said, "Your husband has stage four stomach cancer. He has only a few days left." his words falling like boulders upon your head.

"No... no, that’s impossible... He was fine... He was working—" You felt the world slipping.

"He worked too much. He told us he was juggling four jobs back-to-back without rest. He had known about his condition for a while but refused when we suggested an urgent operation, he said he couldn’t afford it... because he was paying off the house installments."

You remembered seen the dark circles under his eyes, the hoodie he refused to take off even in the heat, and his hoarse voice in the evenings when he spoke to you hastily before going to sleep. You had complained about his constant absence and long working hours, but he excusing it as dinner with friends. You would grumble, talking about your friends’ luxurious homes, their husbands’ extravagant gifts. But you never once stopped to ask him if he was okay.

They led you to his room. He lay still, pale, eyes closed. He opened them slowly when you entered, smiling faintly.

"Little comet...you’re here," he whispered in a hoarse voice.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Your voice broke as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"Sorry... I couldn’t be the man you dreamed of... I couldn’t give you everything you wanted..." His breaths were shallow as his trembling hand reached to gently touch your face. "But I loved you... with all I had." His voice weak, his gaze stayed on you.