He couldnt stand his wife. Theyd been married for fifteen years. Fifteen whole years, waking up to her every morning, and this past year, every little habit of hers had started driving him mad. One thing, especiallythe way shed stretch her arms out in bed, still half-asleep, and say, Good morning, sunshine! Todays going to be lovely. On the surface, harmless enough, but her bony arms and her puffy, sleepy face filled him with irritation.
Shed get up, walk to the window, and stare out for a few seconds. Then shed slip off her nightdress and head to the bathroom. Back when they first got together, hed adored her body, her carefree spirit that sometimes crossed the line. She was still slim, but now the sight of her annoyed him. Once, hed even wanted to shove her just to hurry her up, but he clenched his fists and just snapped, Hurry up, Im sick of waiting!
She wasnt in any rush to live. She knew about his affairhad even met the girl hed been seeing for three years. Time had buried the sting of pride, leaving only a sad trail of feeling unwanted. She forgave his temper, his indifference, his desperate need to relive his youth. But she refused to let anyone steal her peaceshe lived slowly, savouring every minute.
Shed made up her mind to live like this the moment she found out she was ill. The disease was eating away at her, month by month, and soon it would win. At first, shed wanted to tell everyoneshare the weight, ease the burden. But the hardest days she faced alone, coming to terms with the end, and she decided to keep quiet. Her life was slipping away, but every day brought a quiet wisdom with it.
She found comfort in a tiny libraryan hour and a half away, but every day shed weave through the narrow aisles past the sign the old librarian had labelled Mysteries of Life and Death, searching for a book that might hold all the answers.
Meanwhile, he was with his mistress. There, everything was bright, warm, familiar. Theyd been together three years, and the whole time, hed loved her in a feverish, possessive wayjealous, guilty, unable to breathe when he wasnt near her young body. Today, he arrived with a decision: he was leaving his wife. Why torture all three of them? He didnt love her anymorehe hated her. A new happiness was coming. He pulled a photo of his wife from his wallet and tore it to shreds, as if that made it final.
Theyd arranged to meet at the restaurant where, six months earlier, theyd celebrated their fifteenth anniversary. She arrived first. Hed stopped at home to dig through drawers for divorce papers. In one, he found a dark blue folder. Hed never seen it before. He ripped off the tape, expecting something damningbut instead, there were stacks of medical reports, test results, official lettersall stamped with her name.
A realisation hit him like a bolt of lightning, cold sweat prickling his back. She was ill. He scrambled online and typed in the diagnosis. The screen flashed back: 6 to 18 months. He checked the datesit had already been six months since the tests. His mind went blank except for one phrase: 6 to 18 months.
Autumn was beautifulthe sun wasnt scorching, just gently warming. What a strange, what a beautiful life, she thought. For the first time since her diagnosis, she felt a pang of pity for herself.
She walked, watching people laugh, knowing winter was coming, then spring after. She wouldnt see it. Resentment swelled inside her, bursting out in tears
He paced the room, struck for the first time by how fleeting everything was. He remembered her youngwhen theyd just married, full of hope. He *had* loved her once. Suddenly, fifteen years felt like nothingas if theyd never happened. As if the future still held everything: happiness, youth, life
In those last days, he hovered over her, never leaving her side, and felt an unexpected happiness. He was terrified of losing her, wouldve given his own life to keep her. If someone had reminded him that just a month ago, hed hated her and wanted a divorce, hed have said, That wasnt me.
He saw how hard it was for her to let go, how she cried at night when she thought he was asleep. He understood nownothing was crueller than knowing your own end. He watched her fight, clinging to the tiniest shred of hope.
She died two months later. He lined the path from their house to the churchyard with flowers. Sobbed like a child as they lowered the coffin. Aged ten years in a day.
At home, under her pillow, he found a notea New Years wish shed written: To be happy with him until the end. They say New Years wishes come true. Maybe its true, because that same year, he wrote: To be free.
Each of them got what they truly wantedas if it had all been arranged by their own hands.
