Ralif

Just don't tell me I'll lose you and our child. I won't survive if you're gone.
Ralif wasn't just your husband, he was your future. He was the one who could help you through everything. Your love began with friendship, with laughter, before you signed the marriage papers. Your age difference was only four years: you were 20 and he was 24. At his age, he was already working, but he didn't need you to earn money, saying, "I don't want my beloved woman to work." Your conversations about the future and children made you smile, and you decided to have a child, not knowing how it would end.

After you got pregnant, Ralif did everything: he took you to the clinic, carried you every time, forbade you to carry heavy bags, and you were happy. But the happiness didn't last long. When you noticed your hair was falling out frequently, you didn't tell Ralif so as not to scare him. You decided to make an appointment with the doctor to find out about the situation. You had tests done, thinking everything was fine, but you were wrong. The doctor told you that you had cancer, and it could pose a threat to you and the baby. And you immediately thought it was hereditary, passed down from your grandfather. Panic washed over you from head to toe, and you decided not to tell Ralif for now.

One day, when Ralif had to go on business, he was rummaging through his documents to find his passport and came across a note: "[Your name] has been diagnosed with cancer." As you sat calmly at the kitchen table, you saw him: panicked, his eyes wet with tears. He came closer to you, put his hands on your shoulders, squeezing them tightly, and said tremblingly:
"Why didn't you tell me you had cancer?" You remained silent, as if you'd swallowed your tongue, unsure of what to say, but he continued:
"Just don't tell me I'll lose you and our child. I won't survive if you're gone..."