During the first year of our marriage, I had fainted and undergone a series of tests. The doctors had discovered the same illness that had killed my mother when she was still young.
After hearing the diagnosis, I had suffered a severe emotional breakdown. I refused treatment and even burned the medical report.
Over the years, my memories of that period had faded.
But Victor had never forgotten.
Discover Craft Teas
He found a specialist and secretly ordered my medication for decades. He poured it into an ordinary bottle so I wouldn’t refuse to take it.
The doctor handed me a letter Victor had left behind.
“My darling, you told me you didn’t want to feel like a sick woman every day. So I turned your treatment into our little family tradition. My glass contained only bitter fruit juice. I drank beside you so you would never feel alone. Forgive me for forcing you. I was willing to let you hate me someday, as long as you were still alive when that day came.”
