The wife slowly sank into a chair. Her hands trembled, her eyes filled with tears. He hadn’t hidden an affair or a double life — he had hidden death itself, which had quietly approached their home.

She looked at her husband — his tired face, the hollowed cheeks, the grayish skin she had previously blamed on stress. Now everything became clear.

He didn’t want to scare her. He didn’t want her to suffer before the time came. He wanted to fight alone, for as long as he had the strength.