Three months later, we were married.
“It just feels like I’m dreaming”
We didn’t have much. I worked as a store clerk, while Tom was a mechanic. But we had food on the table, a comfortable bed, and someone who genuinely cared.
After the childhoods we had survived, that felt like everything.
When our daughter Emily was born, we were happier than we had ever imagined possible.
One morning, I looked at Tom and smiled.
“It just feels like I’m dreaming. One wrong move, and I’ll wake up without you.”
A month later, that fear became real.
A doctor adjusted his glasses and sighed before delivering the news.
“Your husband has cancer. It’s very aggressive.”
The room seemed to freeze.
I heard the clock ticking behind him and the faint rustle of paper as Tom shifted in his chair.
