Writer's Cramp - 9-21 Words 411

No Time For Goodbye. Does Love Really Conquer All?

          I was always just... Moe. The quiet one. The one who flushed red and stammered when a girl even glanced his way, my mind racing blank. It didn't help that the mirror always showed a little more of me than I wanted. College changed nothing, except that it added alcohol to the mix. Rejection still stung, but a few too many beers made me too numb to care. Three years of that - a blur of lonely nights, failed attempts, and an ever-deepening ache - and I was ready to throw in the towel on everything.

          Then, the phone rang. It was Michelle. I was Resident Hall President, and part of the job was sending encouraging letters to the Sister Hall. She was calling about one of mine, about not giving up on her studies. As she spoke, something shifted. Her voice, hesitant at first, then open, painted a picture of a life more fractured than my own. A broken home, a string of guys who had used her and left her feeling worthless. She was tired, too. So incredibly tired. We talked for seven hours that first night, then six the next. By the end of the second call, she wanted to meet.

          Ten months later, she was my wife. It was that fast, that undeniable. Looking back, it felt less like falling in love and more like two halves of a shattered world finally aligning, finding the only other piece that truly fit. We didn't fix each other, not completely, but we healed together, side-by-side.

          Forty years. Forty years of laughter echoing through our small house, of whispered secrets in the dark, of navigating life's relentless currents. There were good times, so many good times, painted in sun-drenched holidays and quiet evenings. And there were trying times, too--financial worries, family strife, the usual wear and tear of existence. But through every single moment, our love was the unwavering constant, a steady beacon in a churning sea. Not once did it falter, not a single doubt ever clouded what we had. It was the purest, most profound thing I had ever known.

          Then came the doctor's office, the sterile smell, the quiet, somber voice. "Terminal lung cancer," she said, and the words echoed in the sudden silence of my world. "Three to five years, optimistically." Three to five years. It wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. My Michelle, my lifeline, my other half... and suddenly, there was no time for goodbye.

Words: 411
Prompt: No Time For Goodbye