The morning sunlight filtered through the classroom windows, painting golden stripes across the desks. Everything seemed normal — laughter echoing, paper planes flying, teachers scolding.
But Ryan's mind wasn't here.
Suzanne was back after nearly two weeks, and though she smiled like always, something in her eyes had changed. It wasn't tiredness — it was something deeper. Something she was hiding.
"Hey, stranger," Ryan said as she sat beside him.
"Hey yourself," she replied, smiling. "See? I'm still alive."
He grinned. "Barely. You look like a ghost who forgot to haunt people."
She laughed, light and easy, but Ryan caught the faint tremble in her hands as she adjusted her scarf.
"Still feeling weak?" he asked.
"Just a little," she said, flipping through her notes. "But I'll survive."
Her words were casual, but that last phrase — I'll survive — lingered in his mind all day.
---
After school, she hurried away before he could offer to walk her home.
"Got some errands!" she said, waving. "See you tomorrow!"
But Ryan didn't believe her. Something about the way she rushed off made him uneasy. So, against his better judgment, he followed her — just far enough to make sure she was okay.
She turned down a narrow street, past a small park, and stopped in front of St. Mary's Oncology Centre.
Ryan froze.
His world went silent.
Suzanne stepped inside, clutching a file close to her chest. The hospital sign glared at him, the words sharp and cruel.
> Oncology Centre.
Cancer Care Unit.
He felt the air leave his lungs. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no…"
---
Inside, Suzanne sat in the waiting area, lost in thought. Her father was already there, talking quietly to the doctor.
"Your last scan showed some improvement," the doctor said gently. "But you must continue your treatment regularly. She's strong, Mr. Davis — stronger than most."
Her father smiled faintly. "She's my girl."
Suzanne looked down, her heart twisting. "I just want normal days, Dad. I hate hospitals."
"I know, sweetheart," he said, taking her hand. "But you're doing so well. We're proud of you."
---
Outside, Ryan leaned against a wall, his eyes burning. His mind was a storm — disbelief, fear, heartbreak. Every laugh, every excuse, every "I'm fine" suddenly made sense.
He wanted to run inside, to hold her, to demand why she hadn't told him.
But he couldn't move.
Instead, he whispered, "Suzanne… why didn't you trust me?"
---
That night, he sat on his bed, staring at his phone. Dozens of drafts filled his message box:
> "I saw you at the hospital."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I know."
But he deleted them all.
Finally, he sent one simple message:
> Ryan: Hey. You doing okay today?
After a few minutes, her reply came:
> Suzanne: Yeah. Tired, but okay 😊
He stared at the screen for a long time before replying:
> Ryan: Rest well, okay? You're doing great.
> Suzanne: Thanks, Ry. You always know what to say.
He smiled sadly. If only she knew.
---
That night, Ryan wrote in his notebook:
> "She's fighting something bigger than I ever imagined.
And she's doing it with a smile.
I'll pretend I don't know — at least for now.
But I swear… she won't fight alone anymore."
---