"Have you lost your mind?"
Robbert, Christine's father, jabbed his finger at his daughter. "Christine, you'll regret this! What will everyone think? Living with a man who's barely alive?!"
"That's enough!" Patricia slapped her husband's hand down. She turned to her daughter, gripping her hands with tearful eyes.
"Sweetie, please, think about it again? For me, for your dad, for Oliver, for our family? Please?"
She hugged her daughter, choking up.
After Ethan got sick, Pat had tried everything. She'd contacted every doctor and hospital she knew, even her old classmates in medicine. But what good did it do? There were no miracles. She just wanted her daughter to have a chance at a future.
"Mom, Dad, I'm so sorry."
Christine's voice was soft. She tucked Pat's messy hair behind her ear and pulled away from the hug. Looking at her tired parents, she forced a smile that was more painful than crying.
"I'm going to school. I'm resigning today."
She walked down the stairs without looking back.
"Christine, you-" Robert started to argue, but Pat grabbed his arm.
"Let her be. It's her choice. We've done what we can. Love won't put food on the table. She'll understand eventually. And maybe…maybe Ethan will get better."
Christine walked downstairs in silence. She knew one thing clearly - she couldn't live without Ethan.
In the lobby, she heard Rebecca on the phone: "Please talk to him! He's given up... he's asking for euthanasia..."
Rebecca had spent three weeks at the hospital since her son's diagnosis, only sleeping with sleeping pills. She swung between hysteria and despair.
"You're his brother. Please, Adrian, talk to him?"
Ethan was Rebecca's younger son. His brother Adrian was six years older.
Back when Christine and Ethan were in college, Adrian had already turned the Blackwood company into a huge success. He always seemed busy. After Christine married Ethan, she rarely saw Adrian at the family mansion. When they did meet, he'd just nod hello.
After Ethan's diagnosis, the Blackwoods kept it quiet to protect their stock prices. Christine remembered Adrian visiting just once. Tall in his black suit, with an assistant behind him. He'd glanced at Ethan's room from afar, said nothing, and left.
Like a dark cloud, silent and ominous.
Christine knew the truth. The chances of finding a match from a stranger were almost zero. Ethan, now seriously ill, had no value to the Blackwood family. His ongoing treatment would cost a fortune while only Rebecca and Christine were fighting to keep him alive.
Rebecca had no say in family matters. If she couldn't convince Adrian, or if Adrian made his decision... he could grant Ethan's wish for euthanasia anytime by removing the life support.
Ethan wanted to die.
Once brilliant and successful, he'd lost all dignity and hope. An ordinary person might choose life over death. But Ethan's life had been too perfect, too bright. He couldn't accept desperately waiting for a miracle match. He couldn't accept being bedridden forever, depending on others for basic needs, living without dignity in a sterile hospital room.
Worse than death was being fully aware of it all.
Rebecca saw Christine coming downstairs. The two women who loved Ethan most shared a long look. Rebecca turned away, the sunset through the hospital window highlighting her aged face, lined with dried tears and wrinkles.
"He won't live... he still won't live..." she whispered.
"I don't know what to do. Christine, he loves you so much. Please, can you convince him to live?"
Though both her sons were outstanding, everyone knew Rebecca favored her younger son. After the wedding, Christine heard relatives gossip at family dinners. They said Ethan's father had made his fortune and started an affair with a college student, almost divorcing Rebecca when Ethan was six and Adrian twelve. Though their marriage remained, the older son's quiet nature reminded Rebecca too much of her unfaithful husband. She poured all her love into her younger son instead.
Now, watching her beloved son choose death was like a knife in her heart.
"I'll try."
Christine had tried. These past days, she'd talked about their love story, their travel plans, her teaching goals, his research... But Ethan was rarely conscious. When awake, he kept his eyes closed, refusing to see anyone or listen to Christine's words.
He just stared at the blank wall, mumbling through his breathing mask for euthanasia.
Suddenly, people burst through the hospital doors, crying and screaming. They crowded around a gurney carrying someone covered with a white sheet. Nurses rushed the gurney forward while the family wailed in grief.
Christine stared at the white sheet. She imagined it covering Ethan's face. Her chest tightened until she could barely breathe.
She couldn't let Ethan die like this.
Actually, she knew one way to make him live - maybe even save his life.
But she didn't want to use it.
She didn't want to deceive him.
Yet something deep inside told her not to give up any chance of hope.
Christine turned back to the elevator, her trembling finger pressing the up button.
Life meant hope, right?
She needed him to live.
She'd decided - she would give him a child.