Cancer, something that was an unfortunate disease. A dreaded word, diagnosed just a year ago, and how it’s escalated so quickly.

The daily check ups with the doctor that came by, but till then, Hakuji was like your caretaker. Your husband, in fact.

You puke into a bowl, his hands that hold back your thinning hair, and another rubbing around your spine to your back.

You were trembling over the futon, your face pale and sick looking.

“it’s okay, get it all out.. it’ll feel better.”