I married my patient knowing she had only three days left to live — but after her funeral, her sister approached me with a small box and whispered, “She made me promise not to give you this until she was gone.

Alicia wore a beautiful white scarf over her bald head, arranged like a bridal veil.

Her older sister brought a bouquet of flowers.

And for the first time in weeks, Alicia looked genuinely happy.

She smiled throughout the entire ceremony.

When she whispered, “I do,” everyone in the room began crying.

Two days later, my wife was gone.

After her funeral, I stood alone beside my car, still struggling to believe that I’d become a husband and a widower in the same week.

Then I heard someone calling my name.

It was Alicia’s older sister.

She was hurrying toward me, holding a small wooden box tightly against her chest.

“Lucas, Alicia made me promise something,” she whispered.

“She told me to give you this only after she was gone.”

I took the box with trembling hands.

My name was written across the lid in Alicia’s handwriting.

But what frightened me most was the expression on her sister’s face.