My fiancĂ©, Caleb, was diagnosed with late-stage cancer just before we were to be married. Lying in that hospital bed, he and his mother pleaded with me to give him a child, a continuation of his legacy. Feeling moved by our three years together, I agreed and soon became pregnant. But I never expected that heâd want a final rush of wild freedom, hoping to fill the world with his own descendants. My name is Lila Caldwell. Iâm twenty-one, freshly graduated from college, and just wrapped up a three-year relationship with my boyfriend, Caleb Northwood. We were finally ready to walk down the aisle. Caleb and I couldnât have been from more different worlds. My family was modestâhumble even. My passion and violin skills helped me land a place at Huntington College of Music on a scholarship. Caleb, four years older than me, came from a wealthy background and had already started his own small business. After one of my school performances, he introduced himself, charmed, and asked for my contact information. From that moment on, he pursued me with an intense passion. It didnât take long for me to fall for himâwho could resist a handsome, well-off guy who seemed to have it all? My parents, always straightforward and unpretentious, adored him. They couldnât stop praising my âwell-matchedâ engagement, convinced that I was lucky to be âmarrying up.â They didnât even ask for any financial support from his family. But just as we were sending out wedding invitations, Caleb, after years of dining out and hosting endless business events, was admitted to the hospital with severe abdominal pain. And thatâs when everything fell apart. The biopsy results came back, confirming late-stage colorectal cancer. I sat by his hospital bed, clutching Calebâs thin, frail hand, sobbing uncontrollably. The doctors had done a minimally invasive biopsy, so his abdomen was tender, and he had an oxygen tube up his nose, looking pale and pitiful. Seeing my tears, he reluctantly reached out and touched my face with his rough, trembling fingers, trying to comfort me. “Lila, please, donât cry,” he whispered. “This might be better. After all, we havenât tied the knot yet⊠this wonât keep you from meeting someone new. Youâre still âsingleâ on paperâthatâs good, right?” I shook my head fiercely, nearly shattered by the shock of his words. We had planned to get married next month. It seemed impossible to me that such cruel news could be true. âNo,â I insisted. âI only want you. Just stay with the doctors, and youâll get betterâI know it.â It was a feeble attempt at comforting him because Iâd already been told he might have a year left at most. He didnât respond, just brought my hand to his parched lips, brushing a kiss across my fingers. I forced myself to smile, trying to keep my tears in check as I whispered, âRemember? You promised weâd go to Vienna and hear the Philharmonic perform once you were better. Weâll make it our honeymoon.â Even as I said it, I knew it was just wishful thinking. But I couldnât stop myself from dreaming out loud. Beside us, his mother, Margaret, stood by the bed, usually glamorous but now looking worn down from tears. Sheâd fainted more than once since hearing the diagnosis. âLila,â Calebâs faint voice came again. âAfter Iâm gone⊠marry someone good. My mom has my brother, and sheâll be fine, but I worry about you the most.â It was heartbreaking to realize that even now, he was still thinking of me before himself. I couldnât stop the tears from flowing. Feeling the weight of his hopelessness, I finally broke down, sobbing over the bed. After some time, when I had calmed a little, I whispered softly, âDo you have any other wishes? Whatever time we have, Iâll do anything to make it come true.â He hesitated for a long moment before speaking in a low, raspy voice. âLila, I love you more than anything. My one regret⊠is that we wonât get to have a child together.â I froze, feeling tears catch on my cheeks. Because of my upbringing, Caleb and I hadnât been intimate, even after three years of dating. So, did he mean he wanted me to have his child? Caleb looked at me tentatively, his expression both pitiful and vulnerable. âIf you could⊠the child would stay with my mom. Iâd arrange everything so theyâd inherit my share of the company. No one else would ever need to know about it.â His request hit me like a punch. I was only twenty-one, and Iâd been planning to go to Austria for music school in a few months. Just then, his mother, Margaret, broke down into sobs, falling to her knees in front of me. I was startled, rushing to help her up, but she gripped my hands, her face wet with tears, and begged, âLila, I know youâre a kind woman. Please say yes to Calebâs last wish. It would give us something to live for after heâs gone. Iâm begging youâŠâ I looked over at Caleb, feeling conflicted. Honestly, I didnât want to bring a child into the world whoâd grow up without a father. His expression was filled with quiet desperation, as though asking, “Lila, isnât our love worth leaving a legacy behind?” âLila, this child wonât ever hold you back in life. I promise. After the babyâs born, Calebâs father and I will make sure youâre set for the future.â I admit, I was young and deeply emotional, and Calebâs suffering overwhelmed everything else in my mind. So, in a moment of weakness, I agreed. Caleb pulled me into a tight hug, resting his hand on my stomach, as though he already felt a piece of himself growing there. After his insistence, Caleb was discharged early, and he planned for us to stay nearby at Blue Ridge Springs Resort, his idea of a honeymoon to start a family. I suggested getting legally married, but he cut me off sternly, saying it would only complicate my future. âIâll never let us get legally bound,â he insisted. A flash of doubt crossed my mindâwas it possible he didnât want me to have any claim to his inheritance? But I quickly dismissed the thought. I could feel he was sincere. He kept mentioning how heâd make sure I was financially secure after the baby was born. Though money didnât matter to me, I was moved by his thoughtfulness. On the third day, hiding the truth about his illness from my parents, I joined him at the resort. When the time came, I was nervous, deeply uncomfortable with the strange blend of duty and sacrifice rather than pure love. My first time was painful and unsettling, and he barely noticed, caught up in his own needs. Afterward, he even told me to lie on my back against the wall for half an hour to âhelp with conception.â We stayed at the resort for a few days. Caleb was surprisingly optimistic, even comforting me whenever I worried about his illness. âLila, donât be scared,â heâd say, âIâve accepted things. Living is all about enjoying what you have.â So, I stayed true to my promise, never using protection. Sometimes, when his illness faded into the background, his energy made him seem almost healthy. Yet, his thinning hair from chemotherapy was a reminder that cancerâs grip was unrelenting. Finally, after weeks of effort, I stared down at the test stick in my hands. It showed two linesâI was pregnant. But instead of feeling joy, I felt a hollow ache. I could only sigh. I hoped heâd realize that I wasnât doing this for any financial gain but out of love. His condition worsened quickly after that, and the hospital visits became frequent until the day he never left again.
After confirming my pregnancy, Margaretâs attention only grew, and she even hired a caregiver to help me. âLila, that baby in your belly is all Caleb has left,â sheâd say. âYou have to take care of yourself.â Still, I took it upon myself to look after Caleb, making soups and stews to encourage his appetite. Years of growing up without much had made me resourceful in the kitchen. That day, I cooked corn and rib soup from scratch, as I always did, and brought it to him in the VIP ward on the top floor of St. Maryâs Medical Center. The VIP ward was fitting for Calebâs familyâs status. It was lunchtime, and the floor was silent, sunlit hallways stretching before me as I walked toward his room, carrying the food. Though I had given up on my dream of studying in Austria and a future in music, I felt no regrets. I was doing it for love. But as I approached the door, I heard something oddâsoft voices from within the room. I froze, pressing my ear to the door. The voice was unmistakably his. Heâd removed his oxygen tube, whispering intimately to someone I couldnât see. â…Jenny, give me one last chance. Have my child, my last hope,â he pleaded breathlessly.
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