Expired Love

The force pushed Jethro's head to the side.

Nancy Sweeney couldn't hold back. She yelled, "Why did you hit him?"

She lunged at me, but Jethro held her back. "Calm down."

Turning back to me, he pleaded, "Let me explain. This is Nancy. We grew up together in an orphanage. She is like a sister to me. She's getting a divorce because of domestic abuse, and I hope you'll give me time to help her and her son. I understand you're upset, but I can't just ignore her."

He defended himself desperately, as though I were a barrier between them. He never once considered that today was our wedding day.

I still remembered how thrilled he'd been when I told him my dad had finally approved our marriage. He'd swept me into his arms, saying, "Valerie, I can finally marry you. I've waited seven years for this."

I had rested my head on his chest and cried.

What he didn't know was why my dad had agreed. I'd revealed two secrets: I was pregnant, and I had terminal stomach cancer.

When I came back to reality, he was still rambling, "What happened today was my fault. I promise, I'll make it up to you and throw you the best wedding."

"Okay," I said with a hollow laugh, cutting him off.

He paused, then held me tightly in his arms. "I knew you'd understand. You've never made things hard for me."

...

A month earlier, I'd collapsed at work and was rushed to the hospital.

The doctor's words hit me like a thunderbolt. "Ms. Roy, you're one month pregnant. But you also have terminal stomach cancer. I recommend terminating the pregnancy and starting treatment immediately."

I couldn't believe it. But when I saw the two diagnosis reports, reality hit me.

I hadn't misheard. I was dying.

I sat in the hospital corridor for hours, grappling with the news. I made two decisions.

The first one was to take a chance and keep the baby. That was Jethro's greatest wish. He longed for a family and didn't want to be alone anymore.

The second one was to come clean with my dad and tell him I wanted to marry Jethro. It had always been my dream.

Dane Roy, nearly sixty, cried like a child at the news. "No. How can I lose you?"

Tears streamed down my face, but I didn't know how to comfort him. No one could accept the idea of burying their child.

But then, I realized that even though I was dying, the first person I thought of was Jethro.

...

Jethro worked as a lawyer at a law firm, earning a modest salary.

Out of a sense of duty from their shared past in the orphanage, he spent two-thirds of his income to renting a comfortable apartment for Nancy and her son.

"Glen is so attached to me. He grabs my arm and refuses to let me go," he told me excitedly after helping them move into their new home.

He wiped sweat from his brow and came over to hug me. "I can't wait for us to have a child, too."

I smiled, pushing him away playfully. "You've already got one on the way. In here."

He froze, his eyes lighting up. "Really? Are you serious?"