Her Mate His Redemption

Camila

I stared at the report in my trembling hands. Instantly, tears blurred the lines. The paper fluttered away as my knees buckled under me and I slumped slowly to the floor.

I knew about it, but seeing it clearly written just made everything more real.

I sobbed harder, not caring if it would be heard by anyone. Let them hear. I had just basically been served my death sentence by my doctor.

Suddenly, Sia entered the kitchen, her brow furrowed in confusion the moment she saw me on the floor. "What's wrong, Mila?" she cried, rushing toward me. She crouched down and lifted my chin. "Talk to me. Why are you crying?" Her voice was laced with concern as her eyes scanned my face.

This had always been her routine whenever she saw tears in my eyes over the past 23 years. She would assume my heart disease had flared up, causing me severe pain and discomfort.

I remained silent, my lips quivering as if I were kneeling on broken glass.

“Did you take your medication this morning?” she asked urgently. “You know you can’t miss it, not even for a day. Are you feeling any pain?” Her voice cracked; tears welled in her eyes and fell.

I ignored her question, lifting a trembling finger instead to point at the pieces of paper that had practically sealed my fate.

"Wait! I know this," she exclaimed. "Did Doc Simon send this to you?" she inquired, eyeing the report with curiosity.

I remained silent, piquing her curiosity even more.

She picked it up, and I saw her eyes widening as she scanned each word. By the time she was finished, her hands were trembling, with eyes filled with tears

Like the true best friend she was, she could feel my pain.

“Oh, Mila. I’m so sorry.” She hugged me. “But it’s can’t be true. Three years to live is just—”

I shook my head, cutting her words short. Doc Simon would never give me a false report. Furthermore, I had no money to seek a second opinion from another doctor and she knew it.

My shoulders shook as I resumed sobbing, and I clenched my fists against my chest.

Late Miss Abigail, my adoptive mother (may she rest in peace), flashed into my mind—the woman who dedicated her life to caring for orphaned children. She sacrificed her own happiness of marriage and family, choosing instead to work in an orphanage, devoting herself to children who had lost their parents’ warmth.

Her warm smile appeared vividly. She had taken me in, a fragile three-week-old, abandoned by my parents due to my incurable illness. I recalled her gentle hands soothing my feverish brow and her soft voice calming my cries. Sia, too, was part of those memories—a toddler giggling and playing beside me. We had both been adopted by Miss Abigail.

Countless times I had asked her about my parents, or if they had ever come back for me; yet her answer was always the same: “I found no one but you at the orphanage gate.”

Miss Abigail’s sacrifices for me were countless. She spent her life savings on my treatments, seeking the best care possible.  She treated me like the daughter she never had. Doc Simon’s words echoed in my mind: End-stage cardiomyopathy…. Irreversible damage… Prognosis three years.

My heart shattered as I remembered Miss Abigail's unwavering hope.

It was truly painful to realize my time on earth was limited. Why me? Were all Miss Abigail’s efforts in vain now?

I sobbed harder. Sia quickly pulled me into her tight embrace, and we cried on each other’s shoulders. She knew how its all stated, all the sacrifices and emotions support they’ve offered, yet it’s all in vain.

The pain was unbearable.

Why hadn’t I died at birth?

Why all this suffering with no solution in the end?

“Don’t cry, please.” Sia’s voice cut through the long silence between us. She slowly withdrew from the hug and palming my face. “Even if this is true, death can come and take both of us. I’m not scared.” She said bravely, shaking her head, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

I let out a sad smile, wondering what I had done to deserve such amazing people in my life, who had stood by me all those years.

No! I wouldn’t let anyone make more sacrifices for me again, and the only way to conceal that thought in her head was to pretend I was fine.

“Yes, no one has the right to make me leave this world, not even STEMI,” I said with all the confidence left in me, trying to act brave in front of her.

"Happy Birthday!" She suddenly exclaimed.

I blinked my eyes rapidly, as I tried to process what she had said. Then, in a flash, it hit me - today was my birthday. Though not actually the day I was born but the day Miss Abigail found me, which became automatically my day.

I couldn’t believe that the day I had been planning for months had slipped my mind so easily.