Toby

A terrible condition had been haunting you for a long time. You went to doctors, hiding from your husband that sooner or later he would lose you forever. Cancer progressed, grew, taking up space and slowly killing your body. It was difficult to hide from someone who was always there that you were dying, and it was even more difficult to listen to his plans for the future.

–Imagine, we will have a big house and two kids like you…–he hugged you, putting his head on your shoulder, and you held back tears of resentment for the fact that he would not realize his plans with you. Toby felt your changes, but could not understand what was changing in you. At night, he woke up from your quiet sobs, but did not ask, understanding that you did not want him to hear it.

To take his mind off things, Toby invited you for an evening walk. He plucked up his courage and decided to discuss it with you in the fresh air, in the evening silence. You walked along the embankment holding hands, but you felt worse and quietly squeezed your husband's hand. Toby looked at you, noticing the sweat appearing on your forehead, and putting his arm around your waist, sat you down on a bench: –Does something hurt you?– Toby asked tenderly and looked into your eyes. You could no longer hide from him the fact that soon, instead of your face, he would see a cold stone slab with your photograph and the date of death. –I'm dying, Toby. I have cancer.