“We can try. But insurance won’t cover it.”
I looked at the boys.
“I have my severance money, Doc,” I said. “Put his name on the list.”
The next evening, I came home.
Joshua sat at the kitchen table, eyes red, coffee untouched.
“Hanna…” he began.
“You let me quit my job,” I said. “You let me fall in love with those boys. You let me believe this was our dream.”
His face crumpled. “I wanted you to have a family.”
“No,” I said, my voice shaking. “You wanted to control what happened to me after you were gone.”
He covered his face. “I told myself I was protecting you. But really, I was protecting myself from watching you choose whether to stay.”
That landed hard.
“You made me a mother without telling me I might be raising them alone,” I said. “You don’t get to call that love and expect gratitude.”
He cried. I didn’t soften.
“I’m here because Matthew and William need their father,” I said. “And because whatever time is left will be lived in truth.”
The next morning, I said, “We have to tell our families. No more secrets.”
He nodded. “Will you stay?”
“I’ll fight for you,” I said. “But you have to fight too.”
Telling them was worse than we expected.
His sister cried, then snapped, “You made her become a mother while planning your death? What is wrong with you?”
My mother was quieter. “You should have trusted your wife with her own life.”
Joshua didn’t defend himself.
That afternoon, we signed paperwork—trial consents, medical forms, everything.
“I don’t want the boys to see me like this,” he said.
“They’d rather have you here than gone,” I replied.
He signed.
Life became a blur—hospital visits, spilled juice, tantrums, and Joshua fading inside oversized hoodies.
One night, I caught him recording a video.
“Hey, boys. If you’re watching this and I’m not there… just remember, I loved you from the moment I saw you.”
I quietly closed the door.
Later, Matthew climbed into his lap. “Don’t die, Daddy,” he whispered.
William pressed a toy truck into his hand. “So you can come back and play.”
I turned away and cried.
Some nights I cried in the shower. Other days I snapped, then apologized as Joshua held me, both of us shaking.
When his hair began to fall out, I picked up the clippers.
“Ready?”
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