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“There’s only a limited number of slots available for patients,” he continued, his voice measured, “and despite Willy getting accepted, they won’t add her to their treatment program unless…unless we fly to South Korea, together.” He disclosed, his words dropping like a bombshell, leaving me shocked and shaken for a moment.
The room seemed to spin around me as I processed the enormity of what he was asking, not just a trip, but a journey with him, the man who had broken my trust, the wound I was still trying to process that was now a part of me. The thought of being in close proximity to him for an extended period, of having to pretend to be a united front for Willy’s sake, was challenging, to say the least.
“I know what’s going through your head,” he said, his voice soft and gentle, as if he could see the turmoil brewing inside me.
“But let me tell you, this is your decision completely and entirely. If you want me to come along, I
would absolutely love to, and want more than anything to be there for Willy, for us. But if you
don’t…if you can’t bear the thought of me being there, then you can take anyone you want. Your mother, your sister in laws, a friend…anyone. And I’ll be there on the sidelines, or in the shadows, just behind you, supporting you every step of the way.” His words, his actions, were a reflection of the Wilson I thought was gone, the one I had fallen in love with, the one who had always put me and our family first, and I put him first.
“So, you’re saying you didn’t do this to stop our divorce?” I asked him, my voice tinged with doubts and a hint of accusation, maybe a bit too harshly, because he flinched, his eyes dropping for a
moment, before he sighed and met my gaze again.
The pause was puzzling, and for a moment, I wondered if I had hit a nerve, if he had been hoping to use Willy’s treatment as a way to salvage our crumbling relationship. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw something there that gave me pause, a deep sadness, and relentless determination.
“Absolutely not,” he said, his voice firm and resolute, his eyes locked on mine with a sincerity that
was hard to doubt.
“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want a divorce, I never did. But I want to fight for our marriage, for us, the right way. Not by manipulating circumstances or using our daughter’s treatment as leverage. I
want to earn back your trust, your love, and your respect. I want to prove myself to you, and to Willy, that I’m committed to being a better husband, a better father, and a better man.” His words hung in the air, a heartfelt confession that left me searching his face for any sign of insincerity.
“I hope you know this isn’t going to change my decision, Wilson,” I proclaim firm, trying to set finality.
He clenched his jaw, a muscle twitching in his cheek, as he struggled to contain his emotions. His eyes flashed with a mix of disappointment and understanding, but he nodded curtly, acknowledging my words. The air was thick with tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken
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feelings and unresolved issues, I could see the desperation in his eyes, the longing to turn back the clock, to undo the mistakes of the past, but I couldn’t let my guard down.
“Let’s not talk about that now,” he said gently, his voice soft and soothing, as he inched a little closer, his movements cautious, as if not wanting to scare me off. He didn’t invade my personal space, but rather, created a sense of proximity, a subtle shift that acknowledged the emotional intensity of the moment.
His eyes, filled with a deep understanding, locked onto mine, and for a fastening instant, we shared. one thing equally, a sense of being worried and both resilient for our child. The tension between us was still extreme, but it was no longer adversarial, instead, It felt like a shared vulnerability, a mutual recognition of the fragility of a parent’s situation.
“he
“I know I have to respond to the divorce papers in two days, but it’s all your decision now, professed. “If you want to stay here, fight for divorce, and wait months or maybe even a year before we get another chance to get Willy the treatment she needs, that’s your call. I’ll support you either
way.
The pressure of the decision settled Heavily on my shoulders, as I struggled with the uncertainty of our future. The treatment, the divorce, everything seemed to be running out of the balance, waiting for me to make a choice. I felt like I was standing at a crossroads, with no clear direction, only the
echoes of my heart and the whispers of my doubts.
“But the money?” I hesitated, stammering, as the harsh reality of our financial situation came flooding back. It was the main issue, the insurmountable obstacle that had made overseas treatment seem like an impossible dream.
The cost of the treatment, the travel, the accommodation, it was a staggering amount, one that we simply couldn’t afford. I felt a pang of despair.
“How can we possibly afford it?” I asked.
“I’ve got this,” he said, his voice filled with conviction, as he leaned in closer, his firm determination loud and clear.
“I’ve g
got all of it covered. The treatment, the travel, the accommodation, everything. All you need to do is decide, and prepare yourself and Willy, because you’ll be there for a year.” He spoke with a sense of calm assurance, as if he had won a jackpot. But I was still relieved and content.
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