Expired Love

Early the next morning, I got a message from Jethro.

[Glen got sick and was hospitalized, so I stayed. Went straight to the law firm today. Will make you some delicacies when I get back from work.]

I read the message but didn't reply.

Ever since Nancy and Glen showed up, I had been wondering if I was overreacting.

Nancy and he came from the same orphanage. Before, Nancy had worked day and night for him, to the point where she broke down from exhaustion, but Jethro insisted that they were like family, nothing more.

"Valerie, you are my one and only," he had said. "Don't you know my heart after all these years?"

It was true. Seven years of love wasn't something to dismiss lightly.

Dane once asked why I only insisted on a wedding with Jethro, instead of a marriage certificate. I held back my tears and confessed, "I'm dying. A marriage certificate won't change that. I don't want him to grieve forever. I want him to move on and be happy."

That was a lie.

I was terrified of death and even more afraid that Jethro would forget me.

...

As my mind wandered, I drifted off to sleep on the couch.

The smell of food woke me up. When I opened my eyes, everything was dark except for the kitchen.

I looked down at the thin blanket covering me and realized Jethro must have put it on me.

Just then, he came out with the freshly made ribs, smiling. "You're up. Wash your hands, and let's eat."

"Why keep the lights off?" I stood up, heading to the table.

Jethro, still in his apron, set down the food. "You were sleeping soundly. I didn't want to wake you up."

I suddenly remembered a winter night when he had worked late.

I woke up in the middle of the night and saw no one next to me, so I called him.

He didn't pick up, and I panicked, rushing to look for him without putting on a coat. But when I opened the door, I saw him leaning against the wall, asleep.

He stirred at the noise, slowly standing up and rubbing his stiff back. "Forgot my keys and didn't want to wake you up. So, I waited and somehow fell asleep out here."

Later, I learned that he had seen me struggling to sleep at night because of work. He didn't want to disturb my sleep.

Now, as I stared at the food, my appetite vanished.

According to the doctor, stomach cancer often left patients too weak to eat, leading to severe malnutrition.

"Dig in before it gets cold," Jethro urged, packing some ribs into a container.

I blinked. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Nancy is still at the hospital taking care of Glen," he explained without stopping his movements. "They haven't eaten, so I'm taking them some food."

I gripped my fork and knife. Pain flooded my heart.

Unable to hold back, I looked at his weary face and asked, "Is there really nothing but sibling love between you and Nancy?"

He hadn't rested for a full day and night.

He paused, frowning. "How many times do I have to say it before you believe me? You're being unreasonable."

He grabbed the container and started heading for the door.

I trembled, tears instantly flooding my eyes. "Jethro!"

He stopped but didn't turn around.

I asked, "Do you have to go?"

Nancy wasn't a child. She could order takeout for Glen and herself or eat at the restaurants outside the hospital.

Maybe Jethro didn't even realize it, but ever since Nancy with her son showed up, his attention had completely shifted to them.