The doctor sat down in front of us. His face was calm… but serious.
“The surgery was successful,” he said first.
I felt a small breath of relief.
But then…
“There is something else we need to discuss.”
My husband’s hand tightened around mine.
I didn’t speak.
I already knew.
The doctor looked at me, then slowly continued.
“We found that the condition has spread more than we expected.”
The words felt heavy.
Too heavy.
“It means… you will need further treatment. And it will not be easy.”
My husband shook his head slightly, like he didn’t want to accept it.
“But she’s okay now… right? She survived the surgery…”
The doctor nodded.
“Yes. She is strong. Very strong.”
Strong.
Everyone kept saying that word.
But inside… I didn’t feel strong.
I felt tired.
So tired.
That night, after everyone left, I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling.
