Page 39

“No.” He looks down at his hands, then back at me, then around the room like maybe someone else has a different answer.

Nobody does.

“What about the leukemia?”

The question comes out small, almost childlike, and something inside me breaks completely.

“They can’t treat it anymore, baby. Your body can’t take another round.”

Damiano stares at me, motionless. I watch him swallow once, then twice, before panic floods his face.

“What about my medication?” His chest starts rising faster. “I need those.”

“Baby—”

“I need them.”

“I know.”

“I can’t breathe.”

I grab his hand. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!”

Terror fills his eyes.

Raw. Pure. Human.

“I can’t breathe.”

“Look at me, baby.” I take his face between my hands. “Look at me. Breathe.”

But his eyes are frantic and unfocused, his breaths coming too fast and shallow.

My mother rushes out of the room, and a nurse appears seconds later, then another. Someone gives him medication through his IV while someone else speaks softly to him, but I don’t hear any of it.

All I can see is Damiano.

My husband. My best friend. The strongest man I have ever known.

Terrified.

The medication begins to work slowly. His breathing eases, his eyes growing heavy as I kiss his forehead and tell him I’ll find something else.

A new treatment.

A trial, maybe.

Something.

There has to be something.

And then he’s gone again.

Asleep.

The room falls silent, and I stare at the man I love more than my own life.