Every day I go to a corporate job, struggling to survive, working all day and night to live my life… but that all changed when one day this new guy came in. We exchanged hellos and began to talk every shift.

I started to get excited to see him. Sometimes, we’d exchange our favorite candies, books, or even funny stories.

In the middle of a conversation I got a drink of water, “He said that my backpack looked like a purse.” In an instant, I spit out the water and almost choke from laughter. He joins in. A hitting war begins.

“I kinda see it!” I say through laughter, pointing to his bag.

“That’s what I thought!” He laughed.

Oftentimes his laughter and poise make me want to come to work.

And then after 5 months, he worked up the courage to ask me out.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers!” I say, a pout on my lips.

“I wanted to,” he hands me a bouquet of red roses—my favorite.

“Thank you!” I hold the flowers in my hands and inhale, a lush and fragrant honey smell overwhelms my senses.

We went on our first date.

He brought flowers again—Red roses. I wore a Red silk dress, and he wore a tux.

I twirl giving him a 360 view of my dress. “You look beautiful,” He said, a huge smile on his face.

“Thank you”, I curtsy. “You look handsome yourself.”

We pray for food while he holds my hand for the first time.

“This is nice,” I exclaim genuinely, my eyes dancing.

Time ticks by and soon after he decides to propose, candles lit by the beach, violin music playing quietly, a path of rose petals.

He pops the question and I can’t help but cry. Tears were streaming down my cheeks.

“So it’s a yes?” He asks, his gaze beaming on me. I nod, so bewildered and excited. He picked me up and spun me around.

But then it all changed overnight… he gets diagnosed with stage four cancer. I look at his pale hands and hold them. His hands look thin and rigid. Tears now streaming down my face, once happy tears now turned to broken glass.

“Please!” I scream into the unknown.

“God I beg you! Please save him.”

The drops of tears suddenly dry up. I can’t cry anymore, can’t eat, can’t sleep…

_ Beep! Beep! Beep!_

__

“Doctor, what does that mean?”_ _I look around desperately.

“He needs surgery,” the doctors all rush him out. I break down again and the tears flow,_ I can’t do anything. _

_I wait. And wait. And wait. _

__

When a doctor walks in. “Is he okay?” I beg, saliva coating my mouth from crying. Tears still streaming, she responds. “He’s safe—“ I rush into her arms and she comforts me.

“It’s okay. He’s safe. And _healthy_.”

He’s healthy. _He’s_ healthy! HE’S _HEALTHY_!