The Wrong Diagnosis

"Grace has been thinking about opening a beauty salon recently. I was planning to invest both your mother's pension and mine into the business."

Inside the apartment, my son, Elian Isley, immediately objected. "Dad, I know you care about Grace, but isn't that a little unfair? Mom's pension isn't yours alone."

A flicker of warmth had just begun to rise in my chest when I heard Elian continue, "Supporting a family isn't easy for me either. The job market is terrible these days. I deserve a share of Mom's pension, no?"

Heath Isley calmly reassured him. "Grace has always treated you well, hasn't she? That high-paying job you have now—who introduced you to that opportunity? And Colin getting into that elite program? Grace was the one who pulled strings and made it happen.

"She never married and never had children. All the money she's earned and all the connections she's built over the years—who do you think they'll go to in the end? They'll all benefit you and your family."

After a brief silence, Elian's voice lit up with delight. "You've got a point! Grace has waited for you all these years. If Mom passes away, you two can finally be together openly and honestly. Dad, you really lucked out. At least you won't have to worry about being alone in your old age."

"You rascal, what are you talking about?" Heath scolded.

But his displeasure was fake. After living with him for fifty years, I could easily hear the satisfaction and excitement hidden beneath his words.

"Grace has spent her whole life waiting for me. Deep down, I've always felt guilty about that. Now that your mother has been diagnosed with this illness, maybe… maybe it's God's way of giving us a second chance."

A chill ran straight through me.

I could not believe our fifty-year marriage had become the obstacle standing between them and their happy ending.

But did I really have to die before there was room for them?

A few hours earlier, when I had first received the report saying I had terminal lung cancer, my first thought hadn't been how long I had left to live.

It had been him.

Without me around, how would this old man—who could not even find a pair of socks on his own—manage to survive?

When the doctor later told me that he was actually the one with cancer, I had rushed home so frantically that I did not even notice one of my shoes had fallen off along the way.

But now, as something cold trickled down my face, I could not tell whether it was sweat or tears.

The conversation inside continued.

"Dad, you've got to talk Mom out of it. Don't let her get emotional and waste money on treatment. We can't let her burn through all that cash."

"Don't worry." Heath's voice was full of confidence, as if everything was already under his control. "Your mother has always been easy to persuade. A few sweet words, and she'll do whatever I say.

"All I have to do is tell her the money should be saved for Colin's future wedding. She'll give up treatment without a second thought."

"I do feel a little bad for Mom. But she'll understand. After all, the living matter more. During whatever time she has left, we'll just treat her a little better."

"Exactly."

Their voices gradually faded away.

I closed my eyes.

At a certain point, the pain became so overwhelming that all feeling disappeared, leaving only numbness behind.

I didn't know how long I stood outside the door. The motion-activated light in the hallway switched on and off, then on again.

I looked down at myself.

One shoe was missing. Mud stained the leg of my pants. My hair was a mess.

I looked utterly disheveled. But if I had not rushed home in such a panic, I might never have heard their true feelings with my own ears.

Since he was so determined to throw his life away, he could not blame me for abandoning all sentimentality.