He Chose His

Three years ago, I had my positive cancer diagnosis in one hand as I consoled Anderson Graham, whose eyes were red and teary. "It's just cancer. I can beat this." However, he continued crying until he was almost out of breath. He hugged me so tightly that I thought my bones would crack. "Yvonne, promise me that you'll beat this. I'll wait for you to return so I can marry you!" In order to live, I had to remove most of my stomach. Every single day, I was faced with handful after handful of pills and never-ending chemotherapy. Three years later, I'm finally healed and can return to Anderson's side. During my return party, his female best friend chuckles as she raises a glass. "Andy was as celibate as a priest while you were overseas. I kept a close eye on him every single night and made sure nobody else was in his bed. "I practically tattooed the words 'Do Not Touch' on him to make sure nobody else would go for him!" The noisy room suddenly becomes so quiet that I can hear a pin drop. I do my best to ignore the prickling ache coming from my chest. With an equally bright smile, I raise my glass and reply, "Should I give you an award for keeping his bed occupied, then?"