I embraced Pluto once more, then my son, and for a moment, I held onto him without speaking.
“I love you, son,” I told him as I fought my own tears.
“I love you too, Ma,” he replied.
Kojo stood beside me as we watched them leave, his hand resting lightly at my back as the doors closed behind them and the house returned to its quiet state.
We made our way upstairs without speaking.
In our bedroom, I removed my jewelry first, placing each piece where it belonged before slipping out of my dress. I did not rush, but I did not linger either, and when I turned toward the bathroom, I could feel Kojo watching me.
By the time I stepped inside, the shower had already been turned on.
Soft light filled the space, candles placed where I preferred them, and one of my gowns had been laid out with care. Kojostood there, his presence calm, and his hand extended toward me without a word.
I placed my hand in his. He lifted it, pressing a kiss to the back of it, and something in that simple act made my throat tighten more than anything that had been said throughout the day.
He guided me forward, and I stepped into the shower, letting the water fall over me as I closed my eyes.
For a few moments, I stood there and let the warm water move over my body, trying to quiet my thoughts and hold on to the calm I had carried in front of everyone all day. It slipped from me anyway, because my mind returned to those offices I had been sitting in over the past couple of weeks, hearing the same answer from different doctors who all spoke with the same level of certainty.
They had all told me the same thing, and each time I went back, I already knew what I was going to hear before they even said it. The mass they found was stage two breast cancer and it had not changed no matter how many times I asked or how many ways they explained it to me. I went for a second opinion because I needed to be sure, and then I went again because I refused to accept it the first time, but nothing changed, and no matter how composed I remained while sitting across from them, there was nothing I could say or do to make it different.
I lifted my hand slowly and pressed it against the place I had already memorized…the same place they had pointed out on the screen as if it were something distant, even though I could feel the reality of it in my own body now.
My thoughts shifted then, not toward myself, but toward my family, because that was where my mind kept going no matter how much I tried to hold it somewhere else. I thought about my husband just outside this room, about my son who still looked at me as if I could never be anything less than what I had alwaysbeen, and about my grandchildren whose laughter had just filled my home only moments ago.
I closed my eyes and let the water fall over my face, but the truth stayed right where it was, and the weight of it settled deeper the longer I stood here, because the only thing I could think about was the possibility of leaving them, and that was something I was not ready to face.
When I felt Kojo step in behind me, his arms came around me without hesitation, strong and pulling me back into him as the water continued to fall around us.
His lips pressed softly against my shoulder, then again, and I leaned into him without thinking.
I turned in his arms slowly, lifting my gaze to meet his, and the tears came before I could stop them.
“I have stage two breast cancer,” I said, my voice lower than I intended, but steady enough to be understood.
Kojo didn’t say anything right away. He just looked at me, his hands tightening on my arms while he tried to take the sudden news in.
Then his gaze dropped, briefly, to my breasts as if he were trying to understand without asking.
“I went back,” I continued, my voice trembling now despite my effort to control it. “More than once. They all said the same thing.”
His jaw shifted as he looked back at me, and I saw the crack in the man who rarely showed anything.
“How long?” he asked, his voice low.
“A couple of weeks,” I answered.
He swallowed, his hands moving up and down my arms as if grounding himself.
“I was going to tell you,” I said softly. “I just… I needed to be ready.”
His eyes closed for a brief moment before opening again, and when he spoke, there was no hesitation in his tone.
“You’re not dying, baby,” he said, firm and unwavering. “Not while I’m still here.”
A small breath left me, uneven.
