I didn’t even look at Daniel.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
Daniel turned to me immediately.
“Grace, no. We don’t even know if you’re a match—”
“Then test me,” I said.
And they did.
The weeks that followed were full of blood tests, scans, hospital visits, and paperwork.
People later asked if I hesitated.
I didn’t.
I watched the man I loved slowly fade in front of me. I watched our kids whisper questions they thought I couldn’t hear.
“Is Dad dying?”
I would have given him anything.
When the hospital finally called and said I was a match, Daniel cried.
In the car, he held my face in both hands like I was something fragile.
