In the sterile quiet of a hospital room, punctuated only by the steady beep of monitors, I watched as my partner drew his final breath. For two grueling years, we had waged a relentless war against leukemia, our lives measured in cycles of chemotherapy, blood counts, and fleeting moments of hope. We had celebrated small victories and weathered crushing setbacks, clinging to each other through the storm of uncertainty that cancer brings. But in the end, despite every treatment, every prayer, and every ounce of strength we could muster, the disease proved insurmountable. As I held his hand, still warm but growing ever stiller, I felt the world I had known for so long crumble around me. The battle was over, but I was left standing alone on a battlefield I no longer recognized, facing a future I had never dared to imagine.The days that followed passed in a blur of grief and administrative tasks. Funeral arrangements, notifying friends and family, sorting through a lifetime of shared possessions — each action a painful reminder of the life we would never again share. Well-meaning friends and relatives surrounded me, their presence both a comfort and a suffocation. Their words of consolation, though kindly meant, felt hollow against the vastness of my loss. I nodded mechanically, accepted hugs, and waited for the moment…