Broken Strings

F I V E M O N T H S A G O

Anisha held the mug filled with milk tea in her hands and took a seat at the dining table. It was still early morning and neither Andrew nor the kids would be awake for another hour.

She needed to be alone. Ever since she had fainted at work last week, she had been on edge. Something was wrong.

Lately, she had noticed how tired and weak she felt. But of course, that was nothing new. Being tired could simply be a result of the fact that she wasn't getting much sleep lately and being weak could be a result of her not eating a lot lately.

But it was the small purple bruise on her her lower left hip that had scared her. She hadn't even noticed it until a few days ago when she had been playing with her daughter and Mira had pointed out that Mommy had a boo-boo. She had tried to convince herself that perhaps such a bruise was because she had hit the nightstand in her room. But she knew it could also mean something more.

She knew this because of the way her fellow doctors had acted around her after they had run a few blood tests after she had fainted. It was as if they knew something, or at least suspected something, and were afraid to tell her.

And the answers were in the manila envelope in front of her. The envelope that held a copy of her blood results.

Slowly, she gathered the will and tore open the envelope. Tears flooded her eyes even before she had read the letter.

She could sense it. Something was wrong.

Her eyes slowly scanned the letter, her hands shaking visibly, her lips trembling, heavy teardrops falling and her heart breaking into a million pieces.

It couldn't be true. It couldn't be.

She focused on the two numbers that made it clear that something was so very wrong with her.

Her blood count was low and abnormal.

It could've meant a number of things. But she knew what it was.

Why? Because of the alternative tests the doctor had suggested. Because of the fact that she was scheduled for a bone marrow test next Thursday at 1 PM. Because of the fear in Sebastian's voice that her fainting, her bruising easily, her feeling weak and tired all the time, her not eating anymore, it all meant something worse, something far worse than a common flu or a little weakness.

This couldn't be happening. Not to her. Not this early in life.

It couldn't be her results.

She was healthy and perfectly fine. Healthy and well.

She reread the results once again, looking at every number, every letter, every word.

The letter had to be a lie. It couldn't be happening. Not to her. Not this early in life.

She slowly folded the letter and shoved the letter into her cardigan pocket. She sat on the dining table, staring at nothing.

She didn't know what to feel. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to do.

She felt empty, empty and broken.

She looked up as her husband walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple. He barely gave her a glance. Not a single nod of acknowledgement or a 'good morning.'

She smiled softly and slowly stood up. Maybe she should tell him.

He needed to know. He deserved to know.

But she couldn't. She couldn't tell him. She wasn't even sure what was going on yet. And it was her problem to deal with. He wouldn't care anyway. He never had.

He had made it clear how little she meant to him, how much he didn't care about her and how much he hated her.

But still she never gave up on him. After fourteen years, she should have. She should've packed her bags and left.

But she never did.

It wasn't only for the kids. It was also for him, for the two of them. She hoped that he would change, that he would slowly learn to forgive her and move on from the past.

But he never did.

"Wait Andrew, do you want some tea?" The glint of hope in her voice slowly diminishing. But still she asked. Maybe today would be the day. Maybe today he would eat breakfast with her. Maybe today he would show her he still cared. That he still loved her.

He gave her a quick glance and shook his head. "Fuck off Anisha, don't act like you care. There's no need to pretend, especially since the kids are still asleep."

It was nothing new. It was a morning routine. Normally, she would've said something back. And they would have a full-blown argument in the kitchen. He would yell at her and she would scream back at him. A few minutes later and after few hurtful words, he would leave his heartbroken wife all alone in the kitchen. And Anisha would stand and cry for her failed marriage.

But not today. Today, her mind was focused on the letter hidden in the left pocket of her cardigan.

She turned and sat back down at the table as he turned around and left. She slowly pulled out the letter and simply stared at the folded piece of paper.

This couldn't be happening.

But she couldn't keep denying it anymore.

The truth was inevitable. She couldn't change it. But sitting at the dining table, surrounded by a cup of tea and a copy of her blood test results, at 6 AM on a Tuesday morning, Anisha slowly found herself begging for some kind of hope. Any kind of hope.