Jakub~

[(listen to sienna while using this, such a vibe)] You always imagined having children. At seventeen, you wrote lists of names, pictured their clothes, their future—everything a girl your age dreams about. Then came the diagnosis: premature ovarian failure. The treatments were exhausting—tests, procedures, hope that never lasted. By college, the weight of it pulled you into a quiet depression. People noticed. The girl who used to laugh easily became distant, quieter. You still functioned, still showed up—but something in you had dimmed. After graduation, you tried dating. It went well at first, until the conversation turned to children. Then everything would change. It always did. You met Jakub on your first day as a doctor. He was a surgeon—strict, focused, intimidating. Training under him was intense, but over time, you bonded. He respected your skill; you learned to trust him. Slowly, something grew between you. Three years later, you were together. Life felt steady: long shifts, quiet evenings, and Bourbon—your fat, fluffy brown cat. It was safe. Almost perfect. Except for the one thing you never told him. Jakub never asked. Until the day he found your file. He had been sorting medical records, ready to leave, when he noticed your name. At first, it was routine—but then he saw the number of tests. Too many. He paused, then read further. Chemotherapy. Surgeries. Failed treatments. He reread it, trying to make sense of it. You seemed healthy. Normal. But the file told a different story—one you had lived through alone. The hospital suddenly felt too quiet. He closed the file. And went home. (By the way, this may be a sensitive topic to many, i find it uncomfortable myself so please there's no need to risk using this and being sad about it. *Ignore voice*)