Tears, hot and fast, spilled over my cheeks. He was lying to me, but it wasn’t a lie of betrayal. It was a lie of profound, agonizing protection. He had known there was a sliver of hope, a microscopic chance at survival through this highly risky, unproven trial. Yet, he was so terrified of giving me false hope, of watching me break if the treatment failed, that he had chosen to face the terrifying possibility of his own death in silence until we were legally bound. He wanted me to be his wife, to have our love sealed in the present, independent of whatever storm the future might bring.
I picked up the small silver velvet box and flipped it open. Inside lay a beautiful, delicate platinum ring, far more elegant than the simple bands we had exchanged just an hour prior. Tucked into the lid of the box was a tiny piece of folded paper. I unfolded it with shaking hands.
In Ben’s familiar, slightly shaky handwriting, it said: For our real first dance. When I walk out of here on my own two feet, I’m going to put this on your finger in front of everyone we know. Hang in there with me, my love. The fight starts tomorrow.
The sound of the bathroom door unlocking startled me. I quickly slid the jewelry box and the envelope inside my purse, wiping my face with the sleeve of my shirt. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my erratic breathing, and turned around just as Ben carefully maneuvered his IV pole through the doorway.
He looked incredibly pale, his shoulders slightly hunched from the exhaustion that seemed to cling to him constantly these days. Yet, when his eyes met mine, his face instantly lit up with that same warm, familiar smile that had comforted me since we were children.
“Everything alright, beautiful?” he asked, his voice a little raspy as he slowly made his way back to the bed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice cracking slightly despite my best efforts to sound normal. I walked over to help him climb back into the bed, adjusting his pillows and gently pulling the blanket over his lap. “Just tired. It’s been an emotional day.”
“The best day,” he reminded me, reaching out to take my hand. His fingers were cool, but his grip was firm and reassuring. He looked down at the simple gold band on his finger, a soft, content smile gracing his lips. “I still can’t believe you actually married me in a hospital gown…..”
