Those two weeks dragged on endlessly. By day, I kept myself busy caring for our daughter. By night, I lay awake, pain carving through my chest. More than once, my little girl asked, “Mom, why is Dad gone so long?” And each time, I turned away so she wouldn’t see the tears rolling down my face.
When the fifteenth day finally ended, he walked back through our door. Sunburned, smiling, arms full of gifts. He kissed me on the cheek and declared, “I missed you so much.”
The Question
Once he settled down, I looked him straight in the eyes and asked quietly:
“Do you know what illness she has?”
The words cut like a knife. His smile froze. The color drained from his face. He stammered, “What… what are you saying?”
I said nothing more. He didn’t need an explanation. I knew the truth — a truth he had never imagined.
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