The door to Zoe’s room opened. Through bleary eyes, he peered at the silhouette by the door.

  “Ever. Can I turn on the light?”

  “Hello Roman. Sure, go ahead.” He stretched, bones cracking. “What time is it?”

  “It’s nearly six at night.” Roman walked carefully, holding a bouquet of pink lilies, which hadn’t opened yet. “I came as soon as the clinic closed.”

  Ever squeezed Zoe’s hand; no squeeze back. “Carol and Jin?”

  Roman pulled up a chair from the back of the room. “They’re still too upset to come.” He leaned back and crossed his arms and legs. “Has she woken up yet?”

  “No.” Ever’s sigh did little to relieve the vice tightening around his heart. “The doctor says that she’s stable though and that she’ll eventually wake up.” Or will she die before it happens?

  For seconds that felt more like hours, both men sat staring at the woman who was a big part of their lives. The vitals monitor beeped diligently, keeping a tally of how many heart beats she had left on this world.

  “You’ve known all this time,” Ever said, staring at the barely perceptible rising and falling of Zoe’s chest, “haven’t you?”

  Roman uncrossed his legs, sat up and crossed them the other way. “Yes.”

  “How long have you known for?”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Ever since she was diagnosed last year.”

  Ever nodded slowly. “Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease… that’s how you say it, right?”

  “Yep.” Roman stood up and walked to the window, watching cars crawl through the darkness away from the city. “How much do you know about it?”

  “Only what the doctor’s told me," Ever said. "That once it’s been diagnosed, people usually die within a year.”

  “And that there is no cure.” Roman turned to face Ever. “He did mention that, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right. I didn’t want you to get your hopes up, that’s all.”

  Ever stood up and joined Roman by the window.

  “I saw some medicine fall out of the glove compartment in her car once.”

  “It might have been her anti-spasmodics. It would have helped her manage her myoclonal jerks. Her involuntary twitching. She's been hiding it." The male vet glanced at Ever. "Did she take them while you two were with Reuben?”

  “I… don’t know,” Ever admitted. “We were treating and talking to animals every day. She might have forgotten.” He turned to Roman to see a silent skirmish being fought behind his dark eyes.

  “Why do people keep secrets from those they care about?” Ever asked wearily. An ambulance pulled in, slathering his face in dark red and blue through the window. “It just seems to hurt people.”

  “You’ve never kept a secret from someone you cared about?” Roman asked.

  “I’ve always tried to tell–”

  “I agree that people never mean to hurt their loved ones but sometimes, they have no choice.” Roman walked away from the window. He stopped at the foot of Zoe’s bed, letting his gaze linger on her unconscious form, before going to the door. Just as he was about to exit, he turned back.

  “Sometimes, keeping something as a secret is the only way to stop your greatest fear from coming true.”