Poor Becky
“Becky, there’s something crucial I need to confess, now that my time’s nearly up thanks to this blasted illness,” he wheezed from his deathbed.
“What is it, darling?” Becky asked, concern in her eyes.
“You recall all the struggles I’ve faced, right? Like how I squandered our entire wedding fund 50 years ago due to my betting antics, yet you didn’t leave, honoring our ’til death do us part’ vow,” he said.
“I remember, and I’d stand by that choice,” she replied softly.
“And then there was that time I lost not just one, but two house deposits to gambling, and still, you held on to your faith in me,” he continued.
“I suppose I did…” she acknowledged, a hint of patience in her voice.
“I gambled away the equity in our home, both our pensions, the kids’ college savings… I practically robbed our future to feed my habit, but you, inexplicably, never walked away.”
“We made it through those hardships, and the children still got their degrees,” she offered with a note of optimism.
“And your family’s legacy, the business that flourished for five generations… I practically bulldozed it to the brink of ruin with my reckless gambling, and still, you remained by my side,” he persisted.
“That might be true, but I believe that incident was a bit of an—” she started.
“Enough, Becky! Just stop! Can’t you grasp the truth?” he interrupted sharply. “The real tragedy is, despite it all, you’ve persisted, like some sort of curse upon me. Leave my life at once… My time is short, and it’s clear now—you must be some cruel twist of fate!”