“The miscarriages,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the hospital’s ventilation system. “They weren’t just accidents, Arjun. My body wasn’t rejecting the babies because of stress or bad luck. It was a symptom.”

A single tear escaped her eye, tracing a slow line down her hollow cheek.

“A month before we split up, I found a lump. I didn’t tell you because we were already fighting so much, and I didn’t want you to stay with me just out of pity. After I left, I went to a specialist. It’s advanced stage lymphoma. It had been hiding in my system for over a year, stealing everything from me. My energy, my ability to carry a child… you.”