Sssshhh!
The sound of the wind whipped my ears, constant and serene. I felt the grass pricking my arms with a familiar texture, and the blue sky above me was simply marvelous. For some reason, my hands were shaking uncontrollably, and I felt a small but persistent discomfort in my neck, like an echo of something I couldn't quite define. Maybe it was just a bad dream, although, as hard as I tried, I couldn't remember it. The smell of nature mixed with smoke was a bit unpleasant but tolerable; the faint rays of the sun were also enjoyable.
&5$_(/)'".
"Dad!" my son's voice, Jesús, called to me from a distance.
I heard the bustle of other people far off; laughter and shouts that seemed part of a game. Then, the memory returned to me: we were having a family afternoon at the park. I was grateful that this damn city had such a beautiful space in the middle of the chaos of concrete and buildings. It was time to take a break from work; the last video game we launched had been a resounding success, and although that translated into a mountain of responsibilities, today the world felt at peace.
"Are you okay, my love?" my beautiful Mika asked as she cradled my cheeks with her hands. "Have you been able to rest yet? You'd spent practically a week without spending time with us; your job is indeed exhausting."
I had my head resting in her lap, feeling the warmth of her skin. She leaned in and gave me a soft kiss, one of those that seem to stop time.
"Although sitting all day made you grow a bit of a belly," she added with a mischievous giggle before kissing me again. "But it doesn't matter, I love you anyway."
"There you go again with your stuff!" Jesús exclaimed upon seeing us, letting out a childish laugh as he ran toward us. "Dad! Do you want to play soccer with me? The other kids are already starting the match."
"Well, I don't know. Ask your mother if she wants to let me escape," I said, letting out a small laugh that felt light in my chest.
"You have permission, but promise to come back and don't look at other women. You're a dirty old man," Mika replied with a complicit smile, the kind that always managed to disarm me.
"You know I only have eyes for you," I assured her as I made the effort to stand up.
As I straightened up, the small discomfort in my neck persisted; it was a dull prick, almost as if an invisible line were pulling my skin backward. I shook my head to clear it.
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"Well, since your mother gave us permission... Let's play! Just remember I'm a bit old now, Jesús."
"Okay! Let's go!" Jesús grabbed my hand with that inexhaustible energy of children and dragged me toward the center of the field.
We grabbed a goal for ourselves and started playing a penalty shootout. At first, it seemed easy to me; my son is much smaller and I used to be athletic, so I thought this would be a piece of cake.
I was very wrong. Since when is that damn runt so good? I kicked about fifteen shots and he literally blocked them all. I, on the other hand, missed absolutely every attempt. That could only mean one thing: this little guy will be someone great someday. We spent the rest of the afternoon like that, until the fatigue began to transform into a persistent dizziness. Definitely, I'm not cut out for this anymore.
"Hey! It's late!" Mika's voice reached us from a distance.
"You heard your mother, Jesús. You know she's the one in charge here," I told my little one while he picked up the ball with a smile of victory.
"Fine," he replied, faking a frustration he didn't feel. "I still had a lot of fun with you, Dad. Beating you is too easy."
"You little bastard..." I stroked his head with pride and we headed toward the parking lot where we had left the car. Mika had already gone ahead of us.
We got in the car and started the drive home. After a while, the city lights were left behind. We lived a bit on the outskirts, and I've always liked the peace of these parts too much; silence here has a different weight. Mika also loved it when I bought the property; I remember we had barely been married and she was already pregnant. That was ten years ago... it's incredible how fast time slips through one's fingers.
The house had a large garden; sometimes I was too lazy to maintain it so -+-$_##'" we had to spend on a gardener. The walls were gray with white details, it had a high, electrified wall (you never know what crazy person might break in), and a very wide garage; enough to fit two cars.
We went in, had a light dinner amidst laughter, and went to bed early. The next day I had to go to the hospital for a routine check-up; lately, I haven't been feeling entirely well, but I guess it's just the stress accumulated from the game's launch. I settled into the fresh sheets, closed my eyes, and let myself be carried away by sleep, hoping that tomorrow would be as quiet as today £=°π^®>.
"You have pancreatic cancer, Mr. Frido," the cold, aseptic voice of the doctor attending to me declared.
I froze, staring at a nonexistent point in the vacuum of the office. Cancer? Seriously? I had always boasted about leading a healthy life; I couldn't process how something like that was growing inside me. The first thing I thought of was Mika and Jesús... How would they react at home? Good thing I had decided to come to this check-up alone.
"We can start various treatments immediately, such as chemotherapy, or even try some experimental methods that are showing results," the doctor replied, adjusting his glasses with professional indifference.
"How much life do I have left?" I asked, unable to look away from the floor.
"If left untreated, I would say one year," he answered with a frankness that hurt more than any arrow. "With a good plan, we could try to reverse it, although, to be honest, the odds are low."
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"I guess those treatments will be expensive, won't they?" I continued staring at the white hospital tiles, feeling the world slipping away from me.
"Your insurance will cover the entire process, Mr. Frido. You don't have to worry about that now."
I went home; I didn't go to work that day; I simply couldn't. Mika was immediately puzzled and bombarded me with questions about my behavior, but I wasn't able to utter the word "cancer." I didn't think she was ready to hear it; I was barely processing the impact myself and all I wanted was to squeeze every second by her side and my son's.
A few days later, I started chemotherapy. Unfortunately, the little hair I had left started falling out in clumps, so I had to shave my head completely and joke that it was my new "old man look." At work, things were better than ever, but I still requested a permanent leave. I didn't want to waste another minute in front of a screen.
The months slipped through my fingers and the much-dreaded year of diagnosis arrived. Against all odds, I didn't die; it seemed the treatment was bearing fruit, although the physical price was evident. Mika already suspected something: no one has such long vacations without a reason, and my weight loss didn't match someone who wasn't stepping into a gym. I always lied to her, pretending everything was under control with a rehearsed smile... until one day, the silence broke. She found the diagnosis papers hidden in the drawer.
"What is this, Frido?" Mika's voice reached me while I was trying to concentrate on preparing lunch, faking a normalcy that no longer existed.
Turning around, I saw her. She was holding the diagnosis papers and her eyes, blurred by tears, sought an answer I didn't want to give her.
"Tell me it's a lie... please, tell me this is a mistake," she pleaded, her voice breaking.
"Easy, I can explain," I stammered, putting down the utensils and trying to move toward her, but my hands were shaking.
"Explain what? Why you hid from me that you're dying?" The crying exploded, loaded with helpless rage. "It's not fair, Frido! It's not fair that you carried this alone for a year. You know I love you... I could have helped you! We should have gone through this together!"
"I'm sorry..." I replied, lowering my head with a sting of shame that burned my chest. "I didn't want to see you like this, Mika. I couldn't bear the thought of you looking at me with pity. Nor did I want Jesús to see his father falling apart."
She came closer and wrapped me in a desperate hug, as if her arms could stop the disease's progress.
"I don't want to lose you... it's not fair," she sobbed against my chest, and the world seemed to stop in that lament.
We stayed like that, in a silence broken only by our tears. That night, when Jesús returned from his friend's house, we told him everything. There was no way to hold back the tears; the truth fell upon us like a slab, but at least, now they were with me. The burden was no longer mine alone.
Another year passed like that. Surprisingly, I felt better; life seemed to give us an unexpected truce. Everything was going great until one day, while I was trying to change a lightbulb in the living room, the light went out for me. I fell to the ground, collapsed. In the ER, they had to perform CPR; my body was simply collapsing from the inside. They managed to bring me back, but the damage was already irreversible.
"Mr. Frido will have to remain hospitalized indefinitely," the doctor explained to Mika with that professional voice that admits no rebuttal. "His case is critical."
"Alright, doctor..." she murmured.
When we were left alone in the hospital room, Mika held my hand with a strength that reminded me of life itself. Connected to those machines that marked my heart rate, I looked at her and couldn't help it.
"I almost left, huh? Hahaha," I let out a small chuckle, though it cost me my breath.
"It's not the time for jokes, love," she replied, pressing her lips together.
"Come on, laugh. I know you love my old man sense of humor," I insisted.
Mika couldn't help it; a small laugh escaped her, but at the same time, her tears fell uncontrollably onto the white sheets.
"I'm not ready, Frido... I'm really not."
Several more hours passed. Jesús arrived just in time to see the world fall apart. Suddenly, I felt a frantic gallop in my chest; my pulse accelerated erratically and the machines around me began to scream. My family, terrified, clung to my hands while calling for the doctors with a desperation that broke my soul. I could only hear their laments as I felt myself leaving.
"Frido! No, please! No! Why now?! Doctor!" Mika begged, her voice breaking into a thousand pieces.
"Dad! Look at me, Dad! I'm here!" Jesús shouted, choking on tears, shaking my hand as if he could wake me from death itself.
Death was not like in the movies. There was no cinematic review of my mistakes, nor a blinding light inviting me to eternal rest. For me, Frido's end was the echo of a constant beep and a voracious cold that devoured me from the extremities, while I saw the blurred image of my wife and son dissolving in tears beside my bed.
I think I had said that before... but whatever. I'm already dead.
PIIIIIIIIIIIIII!
"It is not your time, y0u &#:;# anoth3r p0-#;:@-@+;#;" a voice thundered in my head as I walked through that tunnel.
"g+;#;#882;!?!" I tried to scream, but my voice was nothing more than a broken code.
":2+2+82+#;?@)!!;$:3"
[Abgejdjvejej-2+@++2;2;2+1+1+1;°'÷'÷π€°€=|✓]
[Security protocol established]
[Subject is being stabilized]
[Loading...]
[ROOT@REALITY_CORE:~#] restore --state=PRE_AMBUSH_038
[CRITICAL] Conflict: Death_Event detected in timeline.
[SYSTEM] Overriding causality... [Bypassing entropy...]
[RESTORING] Physical_Body: 100% | Consciousness_Sync: ERROR_404 (Trauma_Leak)
[REBOOTING_WORLD_STATE] ... 3... 2... 1...
[EXECUTE] _