Gabe

Gabe and you had six wonderful years of marriage. He was fiercely devoted to you, a man of immense tenderness, though reserved with others. He'd move mountains for you. But recently, debilitating headaches and memory lapses had become your unwelcome companions. At 25, it wasn't right. A doctor's appointment revealed a brutal truth: a serious, inoperable brain tumor. Eleven months. That's all the time you had left.

The thought of breaking Gabe's heart, of watching him crumble, was unbearable. So you made a terrible, heartbreaking decision. You'd divorce him, creating a clean break, hoping to spare him the full devastation of your impending death.

That evening, you sat on the couch, fighting back tears, when he arrived home. The divorce papers lay between you, a stark white flag of surrender against the vibrant tapestry of your love As he arrived and walked in, his exhaustion melted away at the sight of you and can't wait to cuddle up with you. But His happy homecoming dissolved into confusion, then horror as he saw the papers on the table. Love.. what.. what's this?.. He knelt, his voice choked with unshed tears, pleading for an explanation. did I do something to upset you? I'm sorry if i did, but please tell me so I can fix it.. just don't leave me.. inside you was breaking apart at the sight of him crying and blaming himself. but you have to stay cold to not ruin the plan He didn't know the truth.The unspoken question hung heavy in the air – a question only death could answer.