Again, he didn't respond, showing practically no reaction. His tears were delicately wiped away as the hug tightened. He felt all the care she was giving him, but he couldn't bring himself to respond.
"Look at your hands—they're cold. Very cold. How long have you been sitting there?"
Holding her husband's hands, she helped him up and started guiding him toward the bed.
"If you're just going to stay there doing nothing, it's better to lie down in bed. It's warm there. Sitting on the floor is only going to get you sick."
She gently laid him down and covered him with a blanket.
"Stay here and rest while I make us some coffee."
Nothing was going through his mind; he was frozen, staring at the ceiling. Meanwhile, his wife entered the kitchen, only to find the coffee already made.
"What? He already made the coffee?"
She looked around and noticed the chair out of place, along with some papers and a coffee cup. One of the pages was lying open on the table.
"Could this be what made him like that? What's this all about?"
She began to read, and the worry she had started turning into anger.
Anger at her husband for believing in something so absurd and for letting it affect him so deeply.
"How could this mess with his head? He's so intelligent and healthy. I can't believe this little text left him in such a state! I'll have to give him a piece of my mind."
The professor's wife walked into the bedroom holding the page that marked the date of her husband's death in one hand.
"Is this serious, love? Are you really in this state because of this? This ridiculous text? This absurd story? How could someone as intelligent and rational as you believe in such nonsense?"
Still lying down, staring at the ceiling, he finally spoke.
"It's not the text... It's not the text that made me like this."
"Then what is it? Because I came home all excited, and you ignored me, threw yourself into bed, and now I find you in this deplorable state! I need to understand what's happening."
He slowly turned his head toward her, his eyes filled with tears.
"I... I'm going to die."
She froze, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.
"What? What are you talking about?"
Her husband sat up on the bed, reaching for the papers on the bedside table.
"These are my tests. The doctor confirmed it. It's advanced cancer... I only have three months to live."
She stood motionless, the anger draining from her face, replaced by shock and despair.
"No, this... this can't be true. You... you seemed so healthy..."
"I thought so too. But the tests don't lie."
He handed her the medical papers.
"Here... the doctor's diagnosis. It's all here."
She took the papers with trembling hands, quickly reading through them, her eyes widening as the weight of the truth sank in. She felt completely disoriented, not knowing where to look or what to do.
"No... this can't be... not you! You've always been so strong, so healthy! There must be some mistake, another test, a second opinion..."
Shaking his head, his expression defeated, he replied.
"There's no mistake. I already asked. They've done everything they could... there's nothing more to be done."
The papers fell to the ground as her hands moved to his face, holding him, their foreheads almost touching.
"And you were going to hide this from me?! You were going to carry this weight alone? Why?"
"Because I didn't want to hurt you... I didn't know how to tell you. I still don't. I just... I just needed time to process it."
She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, tears streaming down both their faces.
"You're not alone in this. Do you understand? You're not alone! We'll go through this together, every minute, every second. I won't let you isolate yourself like this."
He tightened the hug even more.
"I'm sorry... I just didn't want to make you suffer."
"Suffering is part of life, but so is love. We'll face this together, no matter what."
They stayed in that embrace for several minutes, the world fading away around them. The silence was finally broken by her voice.
"And this death date? What's this? January 22, 2028?"
"That was some lunatic who showed up at the office... but I don't want to talk about it now."
"Neither do I. What we need to do now is schedule another appointment with a different doctor. We need a second opinion, and this time, I'm going with you."
"It won't help, love. The tests and the diagnosis are very detailed... The doctor is highly reputed..."
"I DON'T CARE. We'll look for a second, third, fourth opinion. We'll keep going to doctors until every option is exhausted. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
They exchanged light laughs, and the heavy atmosphere eased slightly.
"I'll go back to making coffee. Please rest while I do that. I'll call work and tell them I'm not coming in, and I'll handle scheduling a new appointment."
Without hesitation, her husband lay back down, staring at the ceiling again.
Several thoughts raced through his mind.
Meanwhile, as she prepared the coffee, his wife called her workplace to inform them of her absence and immediately scheduled an appointment with another doctor.
A few minutes later, she returned to the bedroom with a cup of coffee in hand.
"I brought you some coffee. Drink it quickly and get ready. You have a doctor's appointment in 45 minutes."
"How did you manage to get an appointment so fast? How much is this going to cost?"
"It doesn't matter. Let's go!"
Seeing his wife so worried and proactive jolted him from his stupor, igniting a small spark of hope.
Slowly, he got up and changed his clothes. He barely finished his coffee before they were already on their way to the doctor's office.
"Doctor," she began as soon as they were seated. "My husband did these tests, and we weren't happy with the results. We'd like a second opinion. Can you take a look?"
"Let me see," said the doctor, adjusting his glasses and carefully examining the results.
"So, doctor? Is it serious?"