c oncology ward was our entire world.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. Emily had worked on that exact floor for nearly fifteen years.
“I was a mess back then,” Marcus continued, looking down at his worn boots. “Rough around the edges, covered in tattoos, terrified out of my mind. The other staff treated me with polite distance. But your wife… Emily didn’t see a scary biker. She saw a terrified father.”
He sat back down on the grass, looking up at her name etched in the granite.
“When I had to go back to work late at night to afford her treatment, Emily stayed past her shifts. She read Lily bedtime stories. When Lily was too weak to eat, Emily brought her homemade ice cream. And when Lily passed away on a rainy Tuesday morning…” Marcus’s voice broke, a single tear cutting through the dust on his cheek. “…Emily was the one who held my hand while I screamed at the sky.”
