The words cut deeper than the diagnosis. Emma staggered back as though struck. Her lips trembled. "Ethan, I'm still me. We can still have a life, a family—even if not in the way we planned. Please…"
He shook his head. "It's not enough."
Her heart crumpled like paper in her chest.
Days blurred into weeks. Ethan grew more distant, his absences explained by late nights at the office, meetings that stretched suspiciously long. Emma stopped asking questions when the answers tasted like lies.
And slowly, a shadow grew between them—a space neither words nor gestures could bridge, leaving Emma adrift in her own home.