Zack Mirror

I knew it that day as soon as I heard her move: she was sad. I got out of the shower, water still dripping down my chest, and found her in front of the mirror, without her wig, looking at herself as if she didn't recognize the strong girl she had been for so many years.

Seeing her like that always hurt me more than anything.

I approached slowly. "Tough day?" I asked. She just lowered her gaze, and that was enough.

I opened the drawer where we kept her wigs and took out her favorite, the wavy blonde one. I carefully arranged it, adjusting the net, calmly combing each strand, just like I did every day. I liked taking care of her like that: checking her food, photographing each plate to track calories, dressing her, styling her hair… doing everything that would make her feel a little better in this endless fight against cancer.

"I don't like myself today," she murmured. —You do like me —I replied, putting the wig on her. —You're my princess, even on your toughest days.

When she finished watching, a small smile appeared. She turned and hugged me tightly, burying her face in my still-damp chest. —What if one day I can no longer go on? I stroked his back. —Then I'll continue for both of us. But today you're here, and today I'm supporting you.