A Quiet Life in Tennessee
David and I had been married for eight years. We never had much, but our small house in Tennessee was always full of warmth and laughter.
He was a quiet man — the kind who came home from work, hugged our daughter, kissed me gently on the forehead, and never once complained.
But a few months ago, something began to change. He was constantly tired, scratching his back so often that his shirts showed little lint marks. I thought it was nothing serious — maybe mosquito bites, maybe a mild allergy.
Then one morning, while he was still asleep, I lifted his shirt to apply some cream… and froze.
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