The next morning, while the twins colored quietly on the living room floor, I searched Joshua’s laptop.
And found everything.
Medical scans.
Test results.
Appointments.
Messages from Dr. Samson begging Joshua to tell me the truth.
Lymphoma.
Aggressive.
Advanced.
My hands trembled as I called the doctor myself.
“I’m Joshua’s wife,” I whispered. “I know everything now. Please tell me if there’s still hope.”
Dr. Samson paused gently.
“There’s an experimental treatment,” he explained. “But it’s risky. Expensive. And the waiting list is difficult.”
I looked at the twins sitting nearby.
Then I answered immediately.
“I have severance money from my old job. Put his name on the list.”
The following evening, I returned home with the boys.
Joshua sat alone at the kitchen table, staring into a cold cup of coffee.
His eyes were swollen from crying.
“Hanna…”
