This was not the plan. She was supposed to say yes. She was supposed to look up at me with love and adoration and say yes. The tremor of her lips had surprised me as I I'd asked her the question that had been on the tip of my tongue all week. I took her hand in my own, "what's wrong?"
"We can't," her words cut my heart in two.
"Why not?" I'm frowning as I try to understand.
She doesn't respond immediately. Instead she takes a deep, calming breath before delving into the truth that would destroy every dream I had, every dream I'd ever known and every dream that would ever come to me, "I'm dying."
"You're dying?" my words are unsteady and disjointed.
She nods her head, eyes shining with tears, "I'm sorry."
"Don't you dare," I admonish her, "don't you dare apologise. You don't get to be sorry... not for something so completely out of your control."
She sighs as I cling to her, "I'm still sorry."
I'd love to hear what you would do with these emotions; where do they lead you? Maybe you are slightly less morbid than me or maybe you'll make me sob... I look forward to it.