My ex-girlfriend, now in the late stages of lung cancer, came to me to settle her affairs. She said that some of her app passwords were still my birthday. My heart twisted with pain, but I didn't dare take time off to visit her: the mortgage, layoffs, and my wife's silence all held me back. But I went anyway, and uncovered a shocking secret: she had been pregnant back then, and had chosen to leave alone because she carried a cancer-causing gene.
Then a miracle happened: gene therapy cured her terminal illness. She survived, but my marriage fell apart. My wife said, “You both know perfectly well who you chose.”
Both women chose to walk away. And I was left standing there with nothing.
This is more than a love story. It's a question every middle-aged man is afraid to face: when an old love returns from the dead, whose debt do you owe, and to whom must you repay it?
