Too Late for His 'I'm Sorry'
1.1k Views · Completed · Joy Brown
I clutched the diagnosis paper that read "Stage 4 Gastric Cancer," my knuckles turning white. For twenty-two years, no matter how bad things got, Ethan always said he could handle it. But this time, my call only reached his voicemail.
I still remember that snowy night when I was seventeen. Under that tree, he squeezed my hand and promised, "You don't have to be strong anymore. Just lean on me." H...
I still remember that snowy night when I was seventeen. Under that tree, he squeezed my hand and promised, "You don't have to be strong anymore. Just lean on me." H...




























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