The next morning broke with a cruel silence. Maylie was coughing uncontrollably, her delicate frame shaking with every breath. Her face had lost its glow, replaced by a pale shade of pain.
Suddenly, she jumped up from the bed, clutching her chest, and staggered to the bathroom. David woke up, startled by the sound. When he followed her inside, his heart shattered she had vomited blood. A chilling stillness filled the air. His breath caught. His wife,his world was slipping.
"Maylie…" he whispered, but she didn't respond.
She wobbled, her knees buckling beneath her. He rushed to her just in time, catching her in his arms as she collapsed.
"Mom!" he shouted. "Something's wrong—very wrong!"
Miss Dora came running. Panic clouded her face.
They rushed to the hospital. David carried her in his arms as if she were made of glass. The weight of fear grew heavier with each passing second.
The doctor examined her urgently.
When he came out, David ran to him like a man hanging off the edge of a cliff.
"How is she now?" he asked, voice trembling.
The doctor sighed deeply, his face grim.
"I'm sorry… she has… maybe a week. Or less."
The words sliced through the room like knives.
A week? No—this wasn't possible. Not Maylie. Not his Maylie. The woman who filled his darkest days with sunlight. The mother of his child. His heart.
David couldn't speak. His lips trembled. He stared blankly, unable to process the finality in the doctor's voice.
He entered her room, hands trembling. She lay there asleep under the spell of heavy medication. He sat beside her, holding her hand like it was his only anchor to sanity.
"I can't do this," he whispered, tears flowing freely. "I can't lose you, Maylie. Please… please don't leave me."
As if she heard his heart breaking, Maylie stirred.
Her eyelids fluttered open. "David…?" her voice, a fragile whisper.
He sat up quickly, wiping his tears in vain.
She lifted her frail hand, trying to touch his cheek.
"How much time?" she asked softly, knowingly.
David hesitated, trying to lie, but the truth was written across his face.
"How much?" she repeated, this time firmer.
He choked. "They said… a week. Maybe less."
Silence.
She looked at the ceiling. A small tear trickled from her eye, but she smiled.
"At least… I celebrated our ninth anniversary," she whispered.
David shook his head. "I don't care about anniversaries. I care about you. Breathing beside me. Laughing. Teasing me. Scolding me when I act like a child. I can't let you go."
"I wish I could stay longer…" she murmured. "But… we don't get to bargain with God."
They both fell silent. She leaned her head on his shoulder. He held her as if trying to stop time with his arms.
That night, back home, everything felt wrong.
Harry was asleep. Lara had dimmed the lights. The house felt hollow.
Over the next few days, David didn't leave Maylie's side. Every second with her felt like a borrowed miracle. She spent her time with Harry, whispering lullabies into his ears, etching her presence into his little heart.
"I wonder…" she said once, holding Harry, "Will he remember my scent? My voice? The way I touched his tiny fingers?"
"You live in him," David said. "He'll remember even if he doesn't know how."
Miss Dora quietly wept behind the door.
Then came their anniversary—a cruel joke by time.
Maylie woke up to a room filled with roses and memories.
There was a note on the bathroom door.
"Good morning, madam. Your bathtub awaits. Love, Your Idiot Husband."
She smiled through her tears.
Later, as she walked into the garden, Miss Dora and Lara embraced her.
"Happy anniversary, my darling," Miss Dora said. "I'm so proud of you. You've become the daughter I never gave birth to, but always prayed for."
Maylie hugged her, her heart full and broken at once.
David arrived not long after. His arms were full of love and surprise.
He embraced her tightly. "Happy anniversary, my heartbeat."
She whispered, "Happy anniversary, my forever."
They danced that night under the fairy lights.
David twirled her gently, afraid to break her.
Every guest was mesmerized by their love, unaware of the storm hiding behind her eyes.
When the music slowed, he kissed her hand. "You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said.
She smiled. "And you're still the idiot I chose."
Later that night, David handed her a small velvet box.
"Open it," he whispered.
Inside was a delicate diamond necklace, shaped like a heart.
She gasped. "It's beautiful…"
He clasped it around her neck. "Not more than you."
They kissed. A kiss that said more than a thousand words.
But suddenly… Maylie's body weakened.
She leaned back, breath hitching.
David panicked. "Maylie? Hey—stay with me!"
She motioned for him to take her outside. He carried her to the garden.
Everyone gathered around. David fetched a glass of water.
When he returned…
She was bleeding from her nose.
Time froze.
He rushed forward, her body going limp.
"No, no, no, no… Maylie—look at me!"
He dropped to his knees, cradling her head in his lap.
Her breathing was shallow.
She cupped his face with trembling fingers.
"David… I think… it's time."
"No! Don't say that. You promised me—"
"I want to… say goodbye… with a smile."
"Don't. Please, don't leave me."
She kissed the air, barely touching his lips.
"Take care… of Harry… Tell him… I loved him… And you—my everything…"
Her fingers slipped from his face.
Her eyes slowly closed.
And with one final breath… she was gone.
"Maylie!!!" David screamed, shattering the stillness.
Miss Dora collapsed into a chair, sobbing.
Lara clutched Harry tightly.
The house that once echoed with laughter now drowned in grief.
David held her lifeless body, rocking her gently.
As if she might come back.
But she was gone.
His love.
His light.
His Maylie.
Gone.
But her love? Etched in every heartbeat he had left.
Forever.