Cancer,why?

Cancer, Why?

Cancer, why?

You did not knock. You did not send a warning. You did not whisper your arrival in the night. You simply walked in, sat at our table, and began rearranging everything.

It started with a cough. Just a cough. The kind we laugh about and blame on the weather in Nairobi. A little fatigue. A little weight loss. “I’m fine,” she said. And we believed her because believing anything else felt dramatic. Impossible. Cancer was something that happened in movies, in faraway hospitals, in other families.

Not ours.

Then came the hospital corridors — long, cold, and too quiet. The word malignant floated in the air like smoke we couldn’t clear. The doctor’s lips moved, but all we heard was a...