One night, as we lay there, side by side, no machine, no tube—just us—he turned to me.
“Mark,” he said seriously, “if the day comes when the pain returns…”
I touched his cheek. “I won’t leave you. Not because I have to—but because I want to.”
He took a deep breath. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”
No ring.
No ceremony.
But in the silence of that night, we formed a vow—stronger than any paper.
A year later.
The studio is open again. It’s not big anymore, but it’s enough.
We’re no longer chasing too much—we’re content with enough.
Kara, now working again, just half an hour a day, in a small clinic. She’s no longer in a hurry. She also doesn’t hide her tiredness.
One morning, while I was making coffee, he approached me.
“Mark,” he said, with a smile that carried a sense of mystery, “I have something to tell you.”
I was nervous. “What is that?”
He handed me a small envelope.
Inside—an ultrasound.
New date.
I sat down.
“Is it true…?” I asked in a whisper.
She nodded, crying and laughing at the same time. “This time… we chose to fight.”
At night, before we went to bed, I hugged him tightly.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?” he asked.
“For freeing me then,” I replied. “And for choosing me now.”
He smiled and rested his head on my chest.
“Love,” he said, “is not always about staying. Sometimes, it’s about leaving. But the true end… is about returning.”
Next to the bed, there was the old pillow.
No more keeping secrets.
But witness to a love that was sometimes hurt, sometimes separated—
but in the end, chose to stay.
END.
