ney? And why the secrecy? Then came Ryan’s birthday.
Normally, we’d celebrate with a big party, but he asked for something small this year—just family dinner at his favorite restaurant. Emily and I were barely speaking, but we decided to put on a good show for Sophie. At the last minute, Ryan canceled.
I told Emily I was running to the store and drove to his apartment complex. After waiting almost an hour, Ryan came out, looked around nervously, and got into a cab instead of driving. Suspicious, I followed from a distance.
He didn’t go anywhere near his office. Instead, the cab stopped at a hospital. My stomach dropped.
I waited in the parking lot—one hour, then two—before finally gathering the courage to go inside. At the front desk, I asked about him. The receptionist looked concerned.
“Are you family?”
“Yes. I’m his brother.”
She lowered her voice. “He’s in the oncology wing.
Third floor.”
Oncology. Cancer. I felt lightheaded walking to the elevator.
What are you doing here?”
My throat tightened. “You have cancer?”
He looked away. He didn’t deny it.
“How long?” I whispered. He sighed and sat beside me. “18 months.”
“Eighteen months?
And you weren’t going to tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to treat me like a dead man walking,” he said quietly. “I wanted to keep living normally for as long as I could.”
And I kept thinking about Sophie. She’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a daughter. I love that little girl more than anything.”
Understanding hit me all at once.
“The money.”
He nodded. “If something happens to me—when something happens to me—I want her to have something from her uncle. A future.
Money for her education. A safety net.”
“So you were sending Emily money for Sophie’s college fund?”
“More than that. I just wanted her to be secure.
Emily didn’t want to take it. She said you should know. But I insisted.
I didn’t want it going through you or Mom or anyone who’d feel guilty and try to stop me.”
I buried my face in my hands feeling a mix of shame, grief, and disbelief. I had suspected the worst of both of them. That night, I went home and told Emily I knew everything.
Relief flooded her face before she burst into tears. “I wanted to tell you a hundred times,” she cried. “But Ryan begged me not to.
He just wanted to live without being treated like he was already gone. He wanted to love Sophie quietly.”
I cried too. For my brother.
For my suspicions. For lost time. And then, four months later, Ryan passed away.
Shortly before he died, he gave me a sealed envelope with Sophie’s name written on it. He made me promise not to open it until her tenth birthday. I still have that envelope in my desk drawer.
I don’t know what it says, but I know it’s filled with love. That’s just who Ryan was. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for the doubt I had, the time I wasted, and the trust I nearly destroyed.
Sophie still draws family pictures. But now they say: “Daddy, Mommy, Sophie, and Uncle Ryan watching from heaven.”
She never forgot him. And neither will I.
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental.
The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
