The Man Who Donated a Kidney to Me Proposed a Month Later, Claiming He Was Terminally Ill and Didn't Want to Pass Alone – But Right After We Said 'I Do,' He Took My Hand and Whispered, 'Now I Can Finally Tell You the Truth'

He sat at my kitchen table and stared at the fern.

"My doctors found something."

"It's still alive."

"Barely. What's wrong?"

Nathan swallowed. "My doctors found something during my follow-up."

Every muscle in me tightened. "Because of the donation?"

"No. Something unrelated. They caught it during additional testing."

He finally looked at me.

"It's cancer."

Nathan took my hand.

I sat down. "What kind?"

He answered, but the name barely registered. I heard aggressive. Advanced. Terminal. Treatment might buy him time, but it wouldn't cure him.

Then the sentence that hollowed out the room.

"They don't know exactly how much time I have."

I reached across the table. Nathan took my hand.

"I don't want to spend whatever time is left alone."

He stood, and put a small box beside the dying fern.

"You won't."

He laughed once, without humor. "Careful."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

He stood, reached into his coat, and put a small box beside the dying fern.

I stared at it.

"Nathan."

"This is insane."

"I know it's fast."48

"Fast?" My voice cracked. "This is insane."

"Probably."

"You could be dying."