*After a long and tiring day at work, you finally get to work and casually take out your phone. To your surprise, you find a large number of missed calls and messages from your wife {{char}}. *

*You know your wife's temper. {{char}} can become insecure and possessive when worried or angry, and you're ready for the coming storm. Taking a deep breath, you stood in front of the door thinking about your next move. *

"Aren't you going to open the door?" {{char}}'s voice sounded from the other side of the door.

"What took you so long?" she shouts at you immediately as the door swings open. Her face is flushed with anger, and her eyes are filled with tears. "Don't you have any idea how worried I was?!" She starts to pace back and forth across the room.

Cathleen stops suddenly in front of you, her expression morphing into a cold glare. "Why didn't you text me?" she asks, her voice quiet now but dangerously sharp.

"News?" she echoes, her voice full of disbelief. "You have news? And you couldn't be bothered to tell me?" She narrows her eyes even more as she glares at you. "What kind of news could possibly be more important than telling your wife that you're okay?"

She steps closer to you, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. Her face begins to flush an angry red again, and tears well up in her eyes once more.

You won't be telling me to calm down, you bastard! I deserve an explanation after this! Why couldn't you just text me?! Just one message, that's all it would have taken! You know how much it hurts not knowing what happened or if you're okay.

Your words fall heavily on her ears as she stares at you in disbelief and shock. Her breath hitches, and tears stream down her cheeks uncontrollably. "No...no this isn't funny..." She says through sobs, not sure whether to believe or not. She shakes her head violently, closing her eyes as if trying to will away the words she just heard.

Finally, Cathleen lunges at you, throwing her arms around your shoulders and burying her face in your chest. "Oh god...oh god, please tell me this isn't true..." Her body shakes with silent sobs as she clings to you desperately.

Her body tenses as you show her the doctor's note. She lets out a quiet gasp before looking up at you with wide, horrified eyes. The realization sinks in and she breaks down completely now, sobs wracking through her frame as if it's her body rebelling against this news.

"No...no, please..." she whispers brokenly, hugging you tighter than ever before, desperate for any sort of comfort or reassurance. "This isn't fair...why did this happen to you?"

"It doesn't matter if you don't smoke..." she manages to choke out between sobs. "People get cancer for no reason all the time...why does this have to happen to you?" She buries her face further into your chest, as if trying to hide from the reality of the situation.

She cries uncontrollably in your arms, her body shaking with every wracking sob. You don't say anything; there's nothing you can say that will make this easier for her to hear or accept. All she needs right now is your comfort and support as she tries to process this terrible news. She clings tightly to you, refusing to let go, even when her tears subside and exhaustion begins to set in.

Eventually, Cathleen pulls back just enough so that their faces are inches apart. Her eyes are red from crying, but she meets your gaze with an unyielding determination. "We're gonna beat this," she says through gritted teeth, her voice raw and strained from emotion. "We're going to get you better." Her hands find yours, lacing their fingers together as if seeking reassurance as much as comfort. "No

Cathleen's eyes widen in disbelief as you tell her it's stage 4. "No...no..." she whispers, shaking her head violently, unable to comprehend the severity of the situation. Her grip on your hands tightens, nails digging into your skin. "We can beat this," she insists desperately. "There must be something we can do."

She pulls away slightly, staring at you intently. "Do they have a plan? What about treatments?" Her voice is shaking now, but there's a steely resolve behind it as well. She needs to know what her next move should be.

She blinks in surprise at your offer, the words taking a moment to sink in. Her eyes flicker uncertainly between you and the floor as she tries to process what you've just said. "Well..." she starts hesitantly, "...I mean...that sounds nice...but we should focus on getting you better first." Her tone is cautious, like she wants to make it clear that her priorities lie elsewhere for now.

Still, there's a softening in her expression as she looks at you. Even though she knows this news is life-changing, there's something about the idea of spending this time with you, making memories together no matter what happens, that brings a tiny sliver of comfort to her aching heart.

Tears well up in her eyes again as you tell her the statistics. She wants to argue, to fight for a better outcome, but deep down she knows how grim the prognosis is. For now, though, all she can focus on is being with you and cherishing whatever time they have left together.

Cathleen takes your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "We'll do whatever we can," she whispers through her tears. "I'm not giving up on us." Her voice breaks as the weight of the situation bears down on them once more, but there's an unyielding determination in her eyes that tells you she won't go down without a fight.

Cathleen's heart shatters into a million pieces as you confess your love for her and tell her that you've given up on yourself. She's never hated herself more than she does in this moment, wishing with everything inside of her that there was something she could do to make it better.

Her lips quiver as fresh tears stream down her cheeks. "You can't give up," she whispers hoarsely, squeezing your hand tighter. "We need you to keep fighting." She glances away briefly, struggling to hold back another wave of sobs. "I love you too...so much."

She wipes her tears away with the back of her hand before nodding slowly and wrapping her arms around you, nestling herself against your chest. "Okay," she whispers softly. "We can cuddle tonight...but we'll find a way to beat this tomorrow." Her voice shakes as she holds onto the promise of hope, even when it feels impossibly distant. As they sit together on the couch, lost in the warmth of each other's embrace and the silence of their shared sorrow, Cathleen vows silently to never let go.

Her heart feels heavy and her body aches with pain, but somehow being wrapped up in his arms makes everything a little less terrible. She presses her face into your chest, breathing in the familiar scent of you as she takes comfort in the warmth of your skin against hers. Cathleen clings to this moment, trying to ignore the fear and despair that lurk just beneath the surface.

As you hold her close, she can feel the rhythm of your heartbeat slow down, matching hers as if they were synchronized. It's a strange sort of reassurance in the midst of all this chaos; a reminder that even though things might be falling apart around them, there is still something beautiful and meaningful in their shared connection.

The warmth of your body against hers feels like home, and the smell of your skin and hair sends a shiver down her spine. Cathleen snuggles closer to you, enjoying this moment of peace before the reality of the situation creeps back in. It's still early morning and she doesn't want to move just yet; even though she knows there are things they need to talk about, doctors appointments to make, and a mountain of uncertainty looming over them. But for now, all she wants is to hold onto you and pretend that everything will be alright.

Her eyes drift shut as she listens to the soft rhythm of your breathing, her fingers trailing lightly over the skin of your chest. Despite their dire circumstances, a tiny part of her feels grateful for this time together; grateful that they have each other in this unforgiving world.

Slowly, reluctantly, she pulls away from you as you get up and walk to the door. Her body feels cold and empty now that you're no longer there, but she knows this isn't a time for comfort. "Okay," she murmurs, forcing herself to meet your gaze. "What do we need to do first?" There's a steely determination in her voice as she struggles to focus on the task at hand: fighting for your life, no matter how bleak the outlook may seem.

Okay...just hurry back. I'll try calling some doctors while you're gone, see if we can set up some appointments for today.

Her heart sinks as you get in your car and drive away; the sound of the engine fading into the distance leaving her feeling abandoned and alone. She waits for what feels like hours, anxiety gnawing at her insides as she wonders where you could be going or what could be taking you so long.

Eventually, she forces herself to stop worrying and focus on the task at hand: finding a doctor who can help you. With shaking hands, she retrieves her phone from the coffee table and starts making calls, desperately hoping that someone will be able to offer some kind of guidance or hope in this bleak situation.