Michael sat at the side of his bed staring at an old photograph of himself framed on the wall. In the photo, ten-year-old him was smiling.

A chocolate cake was laid out in front of him at the table. Ten candles were perched on top of it, all blown out. At his sides, stood his mother and father, smiling themselves They looked younger and they looked happy.

Michael gave a scoff. They were not happy, he told himself. He believed they were, but as he grew from a gullible child to an observant person, he found out nothing was happy.

His father abused his mother—never physically. But his words were poison. They made her cry, feel like dirt. He saw it, but he understood much later.

He never held her opinions in high regard, never showed any love, and was quick to insult her in every small situation. But he knew how to placate her, how to pretend to smile. Like any intelligent abuser, he knew how to make her love him.

Michael’s brow creased. How he wished he knew, but even then, what could he do? He feared his father when his temper flared. Years went by and Michael made no friends.

Then came forth the adultery. It was nothing new. It was going on for a long time. Everything broke from that moment. Things had gone from worse to indescribable. His mother cried. There was a lot of anger, arguments, shouting and most of all, shameless denial on part of his father.

Michael did suspect it. He never saw him love his mother like those of neighbors did or the actors in television did. He wondered if he had an affair, but he never did believe it.

Well, he was wrong. Resentment grew in his heart for his father. Years of staying in fear and turmoil dropped him from Michael’s eyes. Dropped him from a parent to a sperm donor.

Things went on this way. His mother stayed but assured him it was over, that she was free. She wouldn’t be blinded anymore and five her life to the fullest. Michael had believed her.

He was wrong to trust her. The constant phone checking, bringing his father into every conversation, cursing him—she had not let go.

Michael listened at first. But as it kept going, there came a time, when his irritation had finally boiled over his silence. There was an argument. She said it was a slow process and it was not going to happen overnight.

Michael did not believe her this time.

College came. His father died. Michael felt sad and hated himself.

Then, his mother died. He fell apart and he hated himself.

He went on living but wanting to die. He wanted to die. All those hopes and all those dreams of his younger days amounted to nothing. What were birthdays? What were holidays? What were friends? What was life?

Suicidal thoughts haunted him. Yet, he was too afraid to kill himself; kill himself and fade with nothing meaningful under his belt. He felt he had done nothing in his life. What had his whole existence accounted to? Whom was he to love and care for?

Michael was tired. Each day tired him more, each month made him squirm, and each year made him scream.

Michael stared at the old photograph of himself smiling. He tried to smile. There was no feeling behind it. It was an imitation, but it was longing one, to capture something he lost along the way, something he wanted back desperately. Joy was absent.

Then, in the evening, when Michael was staring at the television, a short announcement ran past the bottom part of the screen. It was a donor request. It was the strangest one, requiring multiple organs. What caught his eye was the word 'fatal'.

He whipped out his cellphone and dialed the given number. The line came to life. "Hello, Doctor Richard Hendricks," the voice said.

"Hello, Doctor, I just saw an ad for organ donation. For a girl called Ana."

William listened to the doctor, his shining eyes staring at the droning screen. He knew his answer before the doctor even stopped for a reply.

"...Well, that’s it," Michael said, licking his lips. His mouth had gone dry. It took some time, but he had come clean. There were times he was scared he would shut up in the middle and not be able to speak, but he had kept going. He poured through those memories he didn't want to think about, those memories he didn't want to feel. Michael's story was laid open to scrutiny.

Ana took Michael's hand in her own and caressed it. Michael was surprised. He thought he would be not be taken seriously, but here he was being given a kind gesture. She had forgiven him or at least understood what he had gone through. His fear and nervousness were put back in his mind and he was calm and relaxed.

“I am sorry,” Michael said, without thinking.

“What for?” Ana asked.

"Not telling," Michael said. "I couldn’t."

"I can understand now," Ana said. "I should be saying sorry. I got unnecessarily angry yesterday."

"Your anger was justified," Michael said.

“No, I was rude,” Ana said. “I didn't have right to be angry at you. You are giving your life for me. You are a hero to me—”

“No need to say that,” Michael said.

“You are, Michael. You are doing this for me, no matter what the reason.”

Michael looked at Ana with a sad face. In his eyes, he couldn't seem to agree with Ana’s notion.

“I don't know,” Michael said.

Ana pinched the tip of her nose. “Oh God, you really are stubborn.”

“You are stubborn too, Ana,” Michael said. “Remember your park walks?”

“Don't hold it against me. I was losing my brain inside this room.”

“You could have walked around the hospital, you know.”

“Who wants to walk inside a smelly hospital with kids screaming all the time?”

“The doctors and nurses do. Well, maybe not, but you should apologize to them..”

“Grow up, Michael.”

“You are the kid here, Ana. Stubborn and rude.”

“Take that back!”

“No, they are yours.”

“I don't want them.”

“They are my gift to you.”

Ana laughed and Michael smiled back.

After they had guffawed themselves to fits, they settled into a comfortable silence.

Ana bit her lip and her eyes turned nervous. “Michael?” Ana called.

"Yes?" Michael said.

“Do you still feel the same as you did before for helping me?”

Michael’s mouth stretched from side to side. “No,” Michael said. "I feel that no longer. After knowing you, I have come to understand. I want you to live, Ana. I don’t want to die, but to give life. I am happy to do this."

Ana teared up. She choked on a sob as it escaped her closed mouth. Tears rolled down. “Michael,” Ana spoke through the tears. “Michael, I don't want you to die.” Several more sobs escaped and her body shook. “I don’t want to die. It’s too soon. I still want to do things. I want to visit places. I will walk the distance if I have to. I would gladly walk. I would walk everywhere. See people and meet them. Oh, Michael, I am so scared to die, but— ”

Michael moved from his chair to beside her on the bed. He pulled Ana into a side hug, gently grasping her shoulder. "Don't cry, Ana. Everything is fine. Everything will be okay."

"No, it won't. I am the one who has this disease. I am the one who should die, not you."

"Don't say that," Michael said in a soft voice. He choked on his words and his eyes were starting to water. He never could see his mother crying. Now, he couldn't see Ana cry either.

"I may not even live," Ana said, between gasps. Michael pulled her closer. "You will die and it may not be able to save me,” she said and looked at him with pained eyes. “You should not do it."

"No, it's not true. You should be more optimistic. Everything... everything will be okay," he said, though he was unsure

"Why is this happening, Michael?" Ana asked. "Why is life so cruel?"

"I don't know," Michael said, tears falling from his eyes. "Maybe it is a test. Maybe it is just a coincidence. It is sad. I don’t know what else to call it. But, I tell you, and believe me, it can be worthwhile in the end. If you keep going, somewhere, sometime, you will find a way to smile laugh and feel again, no matter how dark the days may come,” Michael said and gave a lopsided smile. “And don't be surprised if you would find it in a hospital."

Ana laughed and pulled him into a warm hug. Ana felt Michael's heartbeat, and it pained her to think it would not beat in the future. She tightened her arms around him. They broke away after a long time.