Edward sat on his Chicago porch, rocking back in forth in his chair. He lifted his glass of iced tea to his lips, turning the page in his copy of My Antonia.
"You have made a lot of progress in that book of yours, Edward" Margaret smiled, topping off his glass. She sat in the chair next to him and hesitated, waiting for him to look back at her. She started for a minute, waiting for him to look away from his book. She noticed the hollowness of his cheeks and the paleness of his skin. As much as it hurt her, Edward was getting sicker and sicker. She knew he was faking his health to protect her, but they both knew that he was ill. She feared the worst: the flu. She watched him hold his breath to stifle a cough. She could see the sweat glistening on his forehead from his fever, his stomach thinning from the nausea. She stared at him longingly, as if the more she wanted it to be true the more likely he was to survive. The two had recently started courting but Margaret's feelings for him were strong. She knew in her heart that Edward did not love her, but cared about her nonetheless. Edward had always believed in the idea of soul mates and having one true love, but he never said that she was his. Maybe It was too early, maybe he just never saw her as that, or maybe he never let himself because of his eminent death—Margaret was not sure. She wondered if they would've had a future if he wasn't dying, but it broke her heart to even think about that. She had to let him go. Her father had already been scouting other bachelors in town for her to eventually marry, but she knows in her heart that she may not fall in love after Edward.
Finally, Edward set down his book. He met Margaret's gaze and she looked down. He rested his hand on hers, lightly stroking her hand with his thumb. She remained quiet for a moment before gathering up the courage to say, "How are you feeling, Edward?"
"Picture of health" Edward teased, visibly fighting back a cough. Margaret shot him a desperate look, pleading with him to be honest.
"Edward, have you been back to the doctor?"
Edward thought for a moment, "Margaret, there is very little even the best of doctors can do for me."
Tears formed in Margaret's eyes, "There has to be something."
Edward met her gaze, "Margaret, you have many suitors. You will find a suitable husband, this I swear to you." He was as sincere as ever. Margaret's tears began to fall. She knew he was right, but she didn't want to meet anyone else. Her heart was shattered. She had to let go of the only man she ever really felt for. She looked up at Edward, her eyes searing with pain. Edward grabbed her hand again and gave her a sympathetic look. He had accepted his fate days ago. He had this closure that he knew Margaret couldn't have. Edward watched for days as his body failed him. He had no choice but to accept it. Margaret still had a sliver of hope that Edward would survive, unlike the countless others who lost their lives in Chicago alone because of the disease. Margaret held on to her dreams of her an Edward on their wedding day, her and Edward having a family, while Edward wasn't sure if he ever saw that at all.