Memory stretched backward, all the way to when I was first diagnosed. Diana had been impatient from the start.

She refused to accept the reality of it. She refused to hear me talk about it.

I, fool that I was, told myself she was afraid–afraid of losing me, afraid of being left alone in this apartment.

So I went to every appointment by myself. Every test, every prescription, every IV–alone. Every wave of fear and dread, I swallowed alone. I did not tell her how bad it was getting. I was terrified of watching her grieve, of watching her lie awake at night the way I did.

Then, later…

When Diana found out that her first love had been diagnosed with a similar illness, she locked herself in the bedroom and cried for an entire day and night, no food, no water.

The ridiculous part was, at the time, I thought she had learned my condition had worsened, and was worried because of me.

I stood outside that door thinking she had finally heard how serious my condition was and fallen apart over it.

I stood outside the door, coaxing her for a long time. She would not open it. She sat inside, quietly sobbing. So I sat outside, my back against the door, telling her joke after joke to cheer her up.

Just a door between us.

I thought, even if heaven had not given me a healthy body, it had given me the person I loved most. That was already more than enough.

I never imagined that even that small hope… was a lie.

When the doctor told me they had found a compatible kidney donor, that I could have surgery soon, that I would not have to keep going back and forth between the hospital and home, that I could live like a normal person again. I could take her traveling, go to all the places she had always wanted to visit. I had even made plans on my phone.

However, what I got instead… was Diana locking me in a room. And taking the kidney I had waited for so desperately, and giving it to someone else.

"How did it get this bad?"

Diana lifted her pale face and looked at me in shock.

"Diana, let me see."

I forced myself upright and snatched all the reports from her hands.

"Unless there's something else you need, please leave. I'd like to rest."

Diana’s eyes widened. "What are you doing? Vincent was just trying to help. Look at your temper–you snap at anyone you see!"

Vincent stepped forward and took Diana by the arm, right in front of me.

"Easy, Diana. I've been through it myself, I understand. These doctors love to exaggerate. They want patients like us to feel scared so we’ll cooperate with all kinds of medication and tests.

"It’s not that serious. They just make it sound worse than it is.

"Doctors in public hospitals aren’t reliable. You need someone more professional. I have a cousin who’s an expert in this field. I can send him Nathan’s medical records.

"Alright, thank you, Vincent."

Diana went with Vincent to track down a doctor and get the records printed.

I lay on the bed as a sharp wave of pain hit. My face turned pale, and sweat broke out across my skin.

I trembled, trying to sit up and press the call button. Every movement made it worse.

I was in a hospital… yet I could not move.

Just as I was staring at the ceiling in despair, the door opened again.

I looked up with everything I had left.

"It hurts… quick, call the doctor–"

Suddenly, a stack of reports was thrown hard at my face.

"Enough! How long are you going to keep pretending?"