MARK I nudged Alyanna gently, my excitement for the day bubbling over. "Wake up! Wake up!" I exclaimed, eager to kickstart the official beginning of our honeymoon. Alyanna groaned and muttered, "5 more minutes." I couldn't let her linger in slumber any longer. I pulled the covers back, revealing that she was soaked in sweat, her brow furrowed with discomfort. "Come on, it's time to rise and shine," I insisted, my voice brimming with anticipation. She finally relented, sitting up and yawning. "Fine, I'm up," she conceded, heading to the bathroom to change. "So, what's on the agenda today?" she inquired from the bathroom. My mind, however, wasn't on our plans for the day. I couldn't help but wonder why she was sweating so profusely. My concern lingered as she returned from the bathroom, giving me a quizzical look. I snapped back to the present. "Oh, uh, surfing," I replied, still puzzled by her condition. "Cool. I'll just grab my swimsuit, we'll get breakfast, and then head to the

I learned a great deal about Mark during our time together. He shared stories about his mom, his childhood friends, and his experiences in elementary, middle, and high school. He recounted his college years and even opened up about Callie, his ex-girlfriend whom I had the chance to meet. He told me about what had transpired between them, which had left him harboring strong feelings of resentment. In turn, I shared my own life story with him. I talked about my mom, both what I remembered from my childhood and my present circumstances. I discussed my friendships and recounted my experiences in elementary, middle, and high school. College was a topic of discussion as well, though I admitted to being uncertain about whether I wanted to pursue it. Mark asked me about one of my exes, and I reasoned that he'd likely forget about her eventually. In the end, I chose to share the details of my first battle with cancer. Charlie's voice pulls me back from my thoughts about the previous night, wh

"What do you mean you're going to Europe?" Mark struggles to keep pace as I practically sprint to our new gate. "We're going to Europe, not just me," I reply, briefly turning around before continuing to hurry. "You know what I meant. Now, can you slow down?" He pleads, and I do so only when we reach the gate. "Can you explain it to me now?" "We're going to Europe because it's been my lifelong dream, and I'll be starting treatment in a week. For the next six months to a year, I'll be too ill to do anything," I explain, my voice choked with emotion. I hear the loudspeaker announcing the flight to London, UK, and tears threaten to well up in my eyes. "Now, you can board that plane with me, or you can go back home and wait for me to return in a week. I'm doing this, with or without you." "Shouldn't we call your dad? He'll be expecting you home," Mark suggests, a hopeful expression on his face. "No! He'd do everything in his power to bring me home, and it would work. Besides, I don't h

As soon as I hear the phone ringing, I abruptly wake up from a deep slumber. It might not even be my phone, but I can't be certain, and I'm not inclined to investigate. The sound of someone entering the room indicates it's Mark's phone. He appears to be conversing with someone related to his work when I hear him say, "Hey... no, I can't come in today... I already told you why..." What!? "No, dad, I'm not coming in today!" Did John forget? Because I was present when Mark called him to let him know that I will begin chemotherapy the next day. Then it hits me. Today is my first day of chemotherapy. I wait for Mark to conclude his call and leave the room before I readjust my position and sit up. After slipping into one of Mark's sweatshirts that I found in a box, I reach for my glasses and head to the kitchen. "Hi," I greet him in the most cheerful tone I can muster. Mark inquires, "Hi, how was your sleep?" as he prepares coffee for himself and then moves over to the Keurig to make so

The memories of my chemotherapy sessions felt eerily similar with no significant differences. They began by administering a seemingly inconsequential pill, followed by the inevitable needle in my arm. It took a few attempts to find the right vein, and the sensation of needles pricking my skin left lingering bruises on my arm. I settled into the chair, bracing myself for the challenging hour ahead. As the intravenous drugs flowed into my system, I couldn't help but feel the relentless march of time etching its toll on my body, aging and wrinkling me with each passing minute. The timing of Maya and Abby's arrivals couldn't synchronize perfectly. Abby came first, having squeezed in a doctor's appointment prior to visiting me. While she remained in the dark about the full extent of my condition, her intuition hinted at something amiss. She disclosed that Charlie wouldn't be accompanying her to the doctor's appointment, a fact that tugged at my emotions. It would sadden me when she had to