Reclaiming Life, Finding Love

et. Glioblastoma. An aggressive, rare brain tumor. The doctor' s words e

, the world decided

ed wife, leaving a prenatal clinic. Her hand rested on her swollen belly, a picture of matern

g architect Ethan Miller, finds new happiness with business t

reen, to the image of my li

ed out. My five-year-old son, Liam, stood over the shatter

fear or regret. He looked

screamed, his voice

ed his face in her legs. She stroked his hair, he

do?" I asked, my v

pping with scorn. "He did what he h

and you won' t drive him away like you did Uncle Ben," he

ter. There was a stick figure of Chloe, one of Mark, and a smaller

iam announced, his voice loud and clear.

rifice, every late night working to provide for them, every gent

hand. It was the only real thing I had left. W

orce," I said, the wor

e ridiculous, Ethan. We were never legally married. I w

he ceremony, the rings, the lif

e leaving," she finished,

shing me toward the door with all his might. His

" he yelled, his v

definitive, final sound. I stood on the porch of the house I had de

hone and dialed a number I kne

my voice hollow. I knew she was visiting, pr

" she said, her voice heavy with a sorrow that felt years t

was light, ticklish. I instinctively swatted it away. A flas

black spider lay on the

face appeared. He was cheering, hi

you for bothering Uncle Mark! Bite

gry-looking fang marks were visible. My heart hammered against my r

r at the edges. My head was swimming, a combination of the venom, th

, fumbling with the keys. The engine roa

been parked across the street, suddenly accelerated. It

y into the driver

car was lifted, flipped, and sent rolling across the pavement. My head slammed

lt a few feet away. The t

not frantic or scared. They were cold, cal

" she said, her voice carrying clearly in the sudden

and it sped off down the street, leaving me hanging upside