Chapter 50
COLE
Ifelt weaker with each passing day. It was no longer something I could ignore or push through.
I tried, though. I tried to gather enough strength to do the simplest things—to sit up without help, to walk a few steps, to eat without feeling like my body would reject it—but my body had its own plans now.
It refused to cooperate, no matter how much I willed it to.
The last couple of days had made me think about my life… my choices… my existence.
Three years ago, I hadn’t wanted to live.
I had done everything I could to shorten my time here, as if I had been daring life to take me.
I had pushed people away, rejected anyone who tried to get close, including Liam.
Even my neighbours had kept their distance.
I had found my escape in alcohol, in numbness, in not feeling anything at all.
And then she walked into my life.
Jiya.
She had changed everything.
Through her, I rediscovered photography, something I had once loved but abandoned. Through her, I found my way back to Liam. Through her, I fought my way out of the darkness I had buried myself in. And through her, I found love again—not just with her, but with the children who had become my own.
It felt almost cruel.
That alcohol had been there for me in the darkest time of my life… and now, in the happiest time of my life, its consequences had come back to claim me.
I couldn’t blame anyone but myself.
I had been angry at the world when I lost my wife and daughter.
And now…
Now I was sad and angry all over again.
Only this time, it wasn’t something that had been taken from me.
It was my life that was slipping away.
Jiya had done more for me than I could have ever imagined anyone doing.
She had taken her vows seriously, even before we had spoken them out loud.
She was there for me in every moment, in every breath, in every struggle.
She cared for me with a depth that went beyond what I had known a wife could give.
At times, it felt like she cared for me more than a mother would for her child.
And I was grateful.
Grateful that I had found her.
Grateful that life had given me a second chance at love, even if it came with an end date.
That evening, as I lay back against the pillows, exhaustion pressed heavily into my bones; the room felt still until I heard the familiar sound of nails clicking softly against the hardwood floor.
Milo climbed onto the bed first, and Oreo followed close behind, circling once before climbing onto the bed and settling near my feet.
I reached out with trembling fingers and rested my hand on Milo’s head, slowly stroking the soft fur between his ears. He leaned into my touch, his dark eyes watching me.
“Well, boys,” I murmured hoarsely.
Oreo shifted closer, while Milo remained near my chest, his steady breathing rising and falling with mine.
“I need you to do something for me,” I said softly, my throat constricting around the words. “Take care of the kids, okay?”
Milo’s ears perked, and Oreo lifted his head as if he were listening—really listening.
“Watch over Lucas and Emma,” I continued. “Stay close to them. Make them laugh. Sit with them when they’re sad.”
Emotion swelled painfully in my chest, but I forced myself to keep going.
“And Jiya…” I swallowed hard, my hand tightening gently in Milo’s fur. “Especially Jiya.”
The room blurred as tears gathered in my eyes.
“She’s strong—stronger than anyone I’ve ever known—but she carries too much on her own. She pretends she’s fine even when she’s breaking inside.” My voice cracked. “Don’t let her feel alone. Stay with her. Follow her around the way you always do. Sleep beside her when the nights get hard.”
Milo let out a soft sigh and rested his head against my chest, as if offering silent reassurance. Oreo shifted closer, his tail thumping gently once against the mattress.
A faint, bittersweet smile touched my lips.
“Good boys,” I whispered, my voice thick. “That’s all I’m asking. Just take care of my family… when I can’t.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, holding onto the quiet comfort they offered in a world that suddenly felt far too uncertain.
In the weeks that followed, as my strength continued to fade, Liam and I had grown closer.
He came by every couple of days, sometimes staying the night, helping Jiya with things around the house the next morning.
On days when I had the energy, we talked for hours—about everything and nothing.
On other days, we sat in silence, and even that felt enough.
“All right, buddy, you secure in the chair?” Liam asked as he strapped me into the stairlift.
I nodded, adjusting slightly as the chair began to move.
“How’s it going at work?” I asked once he wheeled me out into the backyard, the sunlight hitting my face with a warmth I had come to appreciate more than ever before.
“So far, so good,” he said with a small grin. “It’s busy, but nothing they can’t handle without me.”
I smiled faintly. “How’s my pet project going?”
“It’s on hold at the moment,” he admitted. “I try to make time for it when I can.”
My heart sank. I wasn’t going to see it finished. That realization didn’t hit me like it once would have. It just… remained there.
Sitting in the yard, I let the sunlight warm what little strength I had left in my body. I turned my head slightly and looked at him. “Thank you,” I said quietly. “For being here… and helping her out by taking care of me.”
He shook his head immediately. “Hey,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. You’re my big brother and my family. I want to be here.”
I held his gaze for a moment. I hoped—more than anything—that he would never have to go through this.
Our father had died from pancreatic cancer. Our mother from breast cancer. It felt like a cruel pattern, one I didn’t want repeated in his life.
I silently prayed that it would end with me. That he would be spared. That he would be strong when I was gone and not let this break him the way it could.
“Will you do me a favour?” I asked after a moment.
He nodded without hesitation.
“Can you please make sure you check up on Jiya and the kids… after I’m gone?”
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “First of all, you didn’t even have to ask. That’s a given,” he said firmly. “And second…” he paused, his tone shifting deliberately, “let’s not talk about that right now.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off with a small smirk.
“Let’s talk about you and that ridiculous Mohawk you had in college,” he continued. “You remember? When you were trying to impress your girlfriend by telling her you were in a band?”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Hey, that worked,” I said weakly, shaking my head.
He raised an eyebrow. “Did it though?”
We both laughed then, the sound lighter than anything we had shared in days.
And for a little while, we let ourselves drift back to those moments—to the stupid hairstyles, the ridiculous stories, the excuses we had made back then.
To a time when life had felt endless.
For a little while… we forgot.
And that, in itself, felt like a gift.
I found myself looking forward to the weekend more than I had in a long time.
Elle’s family, Liam’s family, Jack and Maureen—they were all coming over.
The house would be full.
Full of voices, laughter, joy.
Full of life.
And I needed that.
Because in a place I tried not to visit too often, I knew my time was near.
I had already called Marjorie and Andrea, leaving them detailed instructions about the charity event.
I had gone over everything carefully, making sure nothing was left unfinished, nothing left uncertain.
It gave me a sense of peace knowing that something I had started would still go on… even after I couldn’t.
Physically, I was barely holding on.
The pain was constant now, a quiet companion that never left. My body had grown weaker, slower, less reliable with each passing day, like a machine finally wearing down. Even the smallest tasks felt like battles I didn’t always win.
But I tried.
I tried to keep my spirits up.
For Jiya.
For the children.
Jiya had become everything for me—my strength, my support, my anchor. She moved through each day without complaint, taking care of me, the children, and the businesses as if she had somehow multiplied herself into three different people.
And yet, I saw it.
The way her shoulders had started to sink. The way her face had grown thinner. The exhaustion she tried so hard to hide behind her soft smiles.
Sometimes, I snapped.
Other times, the frustration and the helplessness would spill out in ways I didn’t mean.
And every time, she absorbed it without a word.
Because she knew.
She always knew.
That I didn’t mean it.
That it wasn’t really me.
That hurt me more.
I hated being dependent on her. Hated that I needed her for things I used to do without thinking. Hated that taking care of me was taking something away from her.
But I had no choice.
And neither did she.
Still… she carried it all.
Like a force I didn’t fully understand.
Like a woman who refused to let anything fall apart, even when everything was.
On Saturday, I looked around the table and realized that every single person sitting there was part of my world.
My family.
The people who mattered most.
The people I loved.
The people I was about to leave behind.
I managed to stay present the entire day, holding onto each moment, each laugh, each conversation.
After a late lunch, we all remained seated, the table still scattered with plates and glasses, the air filled with that comfortable contentment that comes only from being surrounded by the right people.
I cleared my throat.
“I would like to say a few words.”
The room quieted instantly.
All eyes turned to me.
I took a slow breath. “I’m not sure how much longer I have left,” I said, my chest tightening with every word, “but I wanted to tell you… the most important people in my life… how thankful I am that you are all here today.” I glanced down for a second, gathering myself, before looking back up at them.
“Thank you for everything… and for always being there for me.” I felt the sting of tears building, but I blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.
“Please make sure to look after each other… and to check up on Jiya…” I added, a small smile tugging at my lips despite everything, “even though my superwoman might say she doesn’t need help. ”
Laughter broke out around the table.
For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed.
Liam stood up and came over, kneeling beside me as he took my hand in his. “I got your back and hers,” he said firmly. “Don’t worry at all.” He squeezed my hand. “Please take care of yourself. Your health is what matters most.”
I nodded, unable to say anything more.
The evening carried on with games, conversations, and laughter.
I watched them all—memorizing their faces, their voices, the way they interacted with each other.
I held onto it.
All of it.
Every second.
Because something inside me told me this day mattered more than the others.
And as the night came to an end, as the house slowly quieted and the last of the laughter faded into the walls…
I didn’t know it yet.
But this… this was my last weekend.