Become The Widower's Wife

"**MARRY ME.**" A tall, broad-shouldered young man bent down on one knee, offering a velvet box containing a diamond ring before lifting his gaze to meet the eyes of a beautiful fair-skinned girl with long black hair. She looked back at him, surprised, emotional, yet happy.

"Zio, you're attracting a lot of attention," the girl's descendant said, blushing, her eyes scanning the surroundings.

The man still on one knee glanced around as well, but instead of feeling embarrassed, he shrugged nonchalantly, refocusing his attention on the girl, his eyes filled with hope.

"I love you deeply, Gretta. Will you marry me? Spend the rest of your life with me?"

The girl bit her lower lip, her eyes teary. With unwavering conviction, she nodded her head.

"Yes. Yes, Zio!" she exclaimed loudly, causing everyone witnessing the scene to cheer along.

Ignazio smiled widely. He rose from his position and stood before his beloved. Happiness radiated from his face as his fingers took the diamond-studded ring from its box and placed it on the finger of the woman he adored.

"I promise to always love you. To be the man who will protect and make you happy," he vowed solemnly.

Gretta simply looked at him and nodded. She was confident that the man proposing to her would keep his promise. Even if Gretta asked for the world and everything in it, she believed Ignazio would give it to her.

Gretta embraced Ignazio tightly, her overflowing emotions finding release, and Ignazio reciprocated the hug just as tightly. Finally, after two years of struggle, his efforts had borne fruit. Gretta, the girl who had captured his heart from their very first meeting, had finally accepted Ignazio's love with few conditions. In that moment, Ignazio envisioned their future together, a life filled with happiness.

**THE HOSPITAL CORRIDOR** appeared deserted. Some corridors only had dim lights as the patients were already lost in their own slumber. Meanwhile, in other corridors, the lights were still shining brightly, and a few people were gathered, feeling anxious and afraid.

Ignazio, a thirty-one-year-old man, paced back and forth outside the operating room where his wife was undergoing childbirth. Occasionally, he wiped his face and roughly ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration.

The doctor had forbidden him from entering and accompanying his wife during the operation at her request, which made Ignazio incredibly emotional. He wanted to curse. He wanted to damn someone. But he knew that all of that would be utterly useless. Even his parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who tried to console him were ignored.

Ignazio didn't care whether the baby would come out safely or not. No! He didn't care about that. What he cared about was whether his wife would survive or not. He didn't want to lose the woman he loved. He wasn't ready.

The operation room's light went out, and the door opened instantly. A nurse, still in her surgical uniform, emerged from the double doors holding a small bundle that displayed a very beautiful face with closed eyes.

"It's a baby girl, her weight..."

"What about my wife?" Ignazio cut in quickly.

As he had stated, he didn't care about the baby. Even though the baby was the proof of his love with his wife, the baby would also be the reason Ignazio would lose the woman he loved.

"Your wife is still under the doctor's care, sir," the nurse said patiently. She attempted once again to hand the baby to Ignazio, but he tried to ignore her.

"Look at her, Zio. She's your daughter, and Gretta," urged his father, squeezing his eldest son's broad shoulders.

Ignazio looked at the still form of the baby with tear-filled eyes. Reluctantly, he reached out, accepting the baby from the nurse in uniform who was now smiling at him.

The baby was incredibly light. Her head wasn't even bigger than the palm of his hand. Her skin was a dark pinkish hue. Ignazio wasn't sure about the color of her eyes. Would they be like his or her mother's? She barely had eyebrows. Her nose was tiny, not even the size of Ignazio's thumb, and her lips? The baby's lips seemed slightly bluish. She was beautiful, incredibly beautiful.

"Zio?" This time, the call came from his mother. She, too, was squeezing Ignazio's shoulder quite firmly. Ignazio turned, realizing he had unconsciously shed tears.

With a heavy heart, Ignazio handed the baby back to the nurse who approached him.

"Does she have a name?" the nurse asked Ignazio, but once again, he chose to look away. The nurse smiled again, as if Ignazio's actions were something she had seen often during her service.

Yes, the nurse understood why Ignazio behaved this way, and she respected it. The man's heart was wounded; he was heartbroken because of his wife's condition.

"I will take her back in for early breastfeeding initiation. After that, I will bring your baby to the nursery," the nurse stated. Typically, Ignazio's parents responded with nods. After the nurse left, the door separating the waiting area and the operation room closed once more.

Ignazio slumped into a long metal chair in the waiting area. His hands returned to clutching his hair. His child was out, but what now? How was his wife? Could they start the process of her recovery now? That's what Ignazio worried about, his wife's safety.

Ignazio and Gretta's marriage had been fine at first. Like any other married couple, they lived their lives full of love and happiness. However, problems began to arise in the fourth month of their marriage.

Gretta, who had initially been cheerful, healthy, and always seemed fine, started displaying unusual symptoms. She looked easily tired, often had a pale complexion, and would vomit after meals. When Ignazio asked if she was alright, the woman, younger than him, said it was just a stomach ailment.

But as days passed and her condition remained the same, Ignazio insisted she see a doctor-especially when he noticed Gretta growing thinner by the day. Gretta, however, refused and claimed she was just late for her period, implying she might be pregnant.

Ignazio was undoubtedly happy with the news. Right away, he went to the pharmacy and bought several different brands of pregnancy tests to confirm Gretta's suspicion, and indeed, they all showed two bright lines, indicating Gretta was indeed pregnant.

Excitedly, Ignazio asked Gretta to see an obstetrician. However, once again, Gretta refused because, according to her internet search, her early pregnancy wouldn't show any signs yet. So, she asked Ignazio to be patient and wait for a few more weeks.

The promised weeks arrived, and deliberately, Ignazio registered Gretta at his family-owned hospital for a comprehensive examination. The news of him registering Gretta for an obstetrician appointment quickly reached both of their parents. Together, the four of them witnessed Gretta's first prenatal examination.

But their happiness vanished instantly when the doctor suggested a thorough examination because they felt something abnormal in Gretta's body. The doctor suspected, knowing that besides the fetus, something else was growing inside Gretta. Gretta was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.

Ignazio refused to believe it. He requested a complete reexamination. Blood tests and a more detailed abdominal ultrasound were performed, but when it was time for an MRI, Gretta refused, stating that the baby in her womb was still very vulnerable to the side effects of an MRI.

Ignazio didn't give up easily. Aware of the danger that cancer posed to his wife, he pleaded with Gretta to terminate the pregnancy. But his wife cried and even threatened to leave him if he forced her to abort the fetus inside her.

"But this is for your safety too. What's the point of the child being born if its presence endangers its mother's life?"

"Ignazio, we have God. Surrender everything to God," Gretta said at that time. "It's not that we're not trying and just resigning ourselves to fate, but here, there's a fetus entrusted to us by God. There's another life we have to protect," Gretta reasoned gently.

"It's just a lump of flesh, not yet alive. It doesn't matter if we terminate it. It won't be a sin either because it's clearly related to your health," Ignazio persisted. But Ignazio's stubbornness seemed to meet its match, as Gretta stood firm in her decision.

"I will undergo all tests and treatments after this baby is strong enough. At least when I enter the second trimester or at most after I give birth," Gretta tried to convince her husband.

"That's just wasting time. We might be too late to treat your cancer," Ignazio complained in frustration.

"If so, that's my fate. The fate that God has given me. My life, for my baby," Gretta replied coldly.

Ignazio shook his head, rejecting what Gretta was telling him. He moved quickly toward his wife, who sat at the edge of the bed. He knelt on both knees, reaching for his wife's hands that had become thinner over time.

"Don't talk like that," Ignazio pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes. "Don't talk about lives. You know that you are very important to me. I love you, Gretta. You are my life, my existence, the owner of my heart. If you were to leave, what would happen to me?" he asked, his tone pleading. He placed his forehead on the back of his wife's hand, openly crying.

"Zio?" Gretta gently stroked her husband's back, resting her cheek against his head and embracing him tightly. "I love you too. I don't want to leave you either. That's why I will fight too.

"I will endure; I will stay healthy and follow all the healing programs. But let me do it later, after this child in my womb is strong enough to fend for itself," Gretta pleaded, her tears flowing just as freely as her husband's.

Ignazio could no longer demand. For his love for his wife, he complied. In the fourth month of Gretta's pregnancy, they underwent further examinations.

"Stage three ovarian cancer," the doctor's response to Gretta's test results made both of their bodies go weak instantly. "The cancer has spread to the peritoneum and lymph nodes in the pelvis," the doctor answered, his voice soft but audible to both of them.

"What about the healing process, Doctor?"

"The first option is surgery, and the second is chemotherapy. However, due to your wife's pregnancy, surgery can only be performed after she gives birth. Unless during this pregnancy, your wife experiences extreme pain and bleeding.

"The second option is chemotherapy."

"What about my baby, will it be okay?" Gretta asked fearfully.

"We need further monitoring for this. But according to some experts, ovarian cancer is not one of the types of cancer that can spread to the fetus. However, the effects of chemotherapy will still be very harsh. Even for those who are not pregnant, it is already very challenging, let alone for a pregnant mother."

After that, no explanation could penetrate Ignazio's mind. And his wife, clearly sticking to her initial principle, chose not to undergo any treatment until the baby in her womb was born. However, as time passed and Gretta's pregnancy advanced, her condition deteriorated.

Ignazio had tried countless times to persuade his wife to seek medical help. He even promised to take her abroad and find the best treatment, but Gretta continued to refuse. Always, the woman he loved prioritized the baby, no matter how great her pain was.

"Ignazio, do you think God has prepared heaven for women who die during childbirth?" Gretta asked one evening as they relaxed in the backyard of the residence Ignazio had built for his wife.

"Yes," Ignazio replied, although he himself wasn't entirely sure. He didn't like discussions like this. It felt like a code that made Ignazio brace himself for the possibility that his wife might die tomorrow or the day after.

He glanced at Gretta, the woman sitting with both legs resting on a warm cushion. Her face was pale, her once thick, black hair now covered by a turban, emphasizing her sunken face and the prominent bulge of her belly.

Gretta didn't look beautiful like most pregnant women. Instead, she seemed like a woman suffering from severe malnutrition. Her stomach enlarged while her face became incredibly gaunt, her cheekbones jutting out. Her eyes were sunken with large, dark bags underneath them. Her hands never left the IV drip because Gretta had difficulty digesting food.

And it was incredibly painful for Ignazio. Regardless of the child inside her being his, in Ignazio's heart, the one he loved the most was his wife.

"In that case, pray that I can enter heaven," his wife said softly.

Ignazio looked at her with anger. "Don't talk about death so casually. You won't leave me, Gretta. Because if that happens, then I swear I will never take care of that child.

"Her birth is more like a curse than a source of happiness," Ignazio said angrily, causing his wife's eyes to widen and fill with tears.

"Zio..."

"Stop talking nonsense. You promised me that you would fight.

"You promised that you would undergo all treatments after the baby is born.

"If you break your promise by leaving me, then I will do the same." And after saying that, Ignazio rose from his seat, leaving Gretta with the nurse he had hired to always take care of his wife.

Now, his wife had given birth. The doctor said they would perform cancer removal surgery on her. Gretta's uterus would be removed and sterilized.

Gretta would surely be disappointed if she couldn't conceive again later, but Ignazio didn't care. For him, his wife's life was more important than anything else.

A child?

He could adopt many children if Gretta agreed. His family ran an orphanage that took care of less fortunate children. Gretta wouldn't just be a mother to one child but to many.

Ignazio waited and waited. He kept praying for his wife's safety. He completely ignored the baby the nurse said would be taken to the baby care unit.

As his family arrived to see the newborn, Ignazio still sat in the operation waiting room, waiting for the door to open and give news that Gretta was okay and the surgery had gone perfectly.