Author's note: Okay, because I didn't keep my word, there will two chapters to make up for a whole week missed, today and tomorrow. I am sorry, I

was feeling a little ill these past couple days, and just didn't feel like writing. I need to get off my lazy behind and get back into the swing of things.

Enjoy!

~Chapter 7~

One year passed, life seemed almost too peaceful. Atarah had settled herself into the role of a rich man's housewife. Michaela and Anagé were happy, at least Atarah

hoped they were. Anagé was doing well in school, and she and Katie sometimes hung out together after school at the house. Anagé was now nine, Michaela was

three. Atarah was thirty-three years old. Tim was thirty-eight. Atarah spent most of her time in the house talking to Emily, the housekeeper and cook, helping her

with the work, or watching TV. Every weekend, Tim would take her and the girls out to go have some fun, and sometimes in the summer days they just went right to

the beach where they lived to cool off in the water. In this frame of time, in this world of Aku, it seemed impossible one could live happily and comfortably. Survival

was key, and especially for Atarah, who had grown up wondering where her next meal was coming from, now she didn't have to worry about it, when she was with

Tim. But, to tell the truth, she was so used to being dependent on herself, and her daughters, she sometimes didn't know when to let someone else take of her for a

change. One time, she and Tim had gone shopping for clothes, and Tim pulled out this black low-cut dress that he thought would look nice on her. Atarah saw the

near two-hundred- dollar price tag and told him it was alright, she didn't really need a dress like that. Tim told her that he wanted her to have this nice dress. Atarah

finally gave in, and Tim bought her the dress, along with a pair of $150 black leather high heels, and a set of pearls. This had been over a couple months ago. Tim

may have been rich, with a fancy car, a house on the beach, and a maid to do all the cooking and cleaning, but things like that come a dime a dozen, and it could all

be lost in a minute.

One evening in late spring, Atarah went into the master bedroom to ask Tim something, when she saw him leaning over the sink in the bathroom, holding a cloth

over his nose. He tipped his head back and sighed, then leaned forward again. A question mark and a worried face appeared over Atarah's head.

Tim saw her in the mirror and turned around.

"I'm alright," said Tim. "It's just a nosebleed."

Tim placed the cloth back on his nose to hold it there, blood was still coming out.

"Let me get you an ice pack," said Atarah, and she left to go downstairs. She returned in a minute with the cold compress and handed it to Tim.

"Thank you," he said, removing the bloody cloth from his nose and placing the cold compress on it.

Atarah took the bloody cloth and rinsed it out in the sink with cold water. With the cold compress, the bleeding was finally stopping, and Tim felt much better.

"Thank goodness its stopped," said Tim. "I was afraid I would have to go to the ER and get packed, or worse, cauterized."

Atarah placed a comforting hand on his back. Nosebleeds were scary. She had had one before when she was a child, she had gotten into a fight out in a field with a

girl, and the girl had punched Atarah in the face. With her nose dripping like a broken faucet, Atarah had begun hitting the girl back, and she had won the fight. The

girl never messed with Atarah again.

"I'm glad you don't," said Atarah to Tim. He nodded at her knowingly.

A few days after the nosebleed, Atarah was at home, playing with Michaela, when Tim came home earlier than usual.

"You're home early!" said Emily, taking the words right of Atarah's mouth.

"I don't feel well," said Tim. He hung up his car keys, and went over to give Atarah a hug, and he picked up Michaela and gave her a hug and a smooch on the cheek.

"What is wrong?" asked Atarah.

Tim shrugged. "I don't know. One minute I'm feeling fine, and then the next I just feel…bone tired. I don't what's wrong with me." He rubbed the back of his head.

"Could be an early summer cold coming on," said Emily.

"Maybe," said Tim. "Well, I'm home now, guess I can lie in bed and see if that helps."

Tim went upstairs to the master bedroom, changed his clothes, and laid down in bed. Emily made a cup of citrus tea and Atarah brought it up to him.

"Thank you," said Tim. He drank his tea, then went to sleep. Close to seven PM, he woke up, ate a little bit, used the bathroom, then went back to sleep. He slept for

mostly the rest of the night. In the morning Atarah took his temperature and discovered he had a low- grade fever. Tim called out from work, telling his boss he was

sick, and he simply told him to rest up and get better. Tim rested for the rest of the week, and all through the weekend, and then he felt better, but not a hundred

percent. Summer arrived. The days got hotter. School was out for Anagé, and they all played together like a family. One particular hot day, Tim came walking into the

kitchen wearing a long sleeve shirt. Atarah put down the book she was reading when she noticed.

"Long sleeves in the summer?" she asked.

"I'm a little chilly," Tim lied.

Atarah didn't buy what Tim said, but she let him be. The following day, she had caught him outside with his shirt off, hosing down his car and saw a purple-blue

bruise on his left arm. Atarah was shocked to see it. when Tim cut the water off and turned around and saw her, she asked him a question.

"Are you alright? What happened?" she asked.

"I'm alright," said Tim, rubbing the bruise. "I bumped into something at work."

Tim was telling the truth, mostly. He did bump into something at work, but it wasn't a significantly hard bump, meaning the force shouldn't have been enough to

create a bruise, but it did. Atarah was getting really worried for Tim. He seemed to be ill, but with what?

On August the fifth, she got her answer. That afternoon after swimming, Tim, Anagé, and Michaela were in the kitchen making chocolate muffins. Tim sniffed, and

then he felt a trickle from his left nostril. He wiped and saw that it was blood. He was having another nosebleed. Anagé gasped, and Michaela just stared wide-eyed.

"Is everything okay?" asked Atarah, coming into the kitchen. Then she saw. She grabbed a paper towel and quickly pressed it to Tim's nose.

"Thank you," he said. He sat down and pinched his nose shut with the paper towel. Soon, that paper towel began to get drenched. Atarah handed him another one.

After ten minutes, he had gone through at least three.

"Maybe you should go to the hospital," said Emily.

Tim nodded agreeably. He had had long nosebleed before, and when they lasted over ten minutes, usually it wasn't a good sign, and he was starting to feel light-

headed. Another five minutes passed, and Tim got up to grab his car keys. He, and Atarah got in, and drove to the hospital, leaving Anagé and Michaela home with

Emily. At the hospital, Tim was seated in the waiting room, holding a piece of gauze to his nose. Eventually he was called back and a doctor came to look at him. He

asked Tim how long the nosebleed was going on, asked him if he had been feeling ill prior to the nosebleed, and if he had nosebleeds before. Tim told him yes, he

had to all the questions, and the doctor looked at Tim's medical history. When he read over it, the doctor crinkled his eyebrows in worry.

"What is it?" asked Tim.

"Along with these nosebleeds and feeling extreme illness and fatigue in your medical history, have you also noticed pinprick bruising and body pain?" The doctor said,

reading down.

"Yes," said Tim, getting worried.

"Then I would like for you to go down to the lab and get blood work done," said the doctor.

"You don't think it's…" Tim trailed off.

"Possibly," said the doctor. "But I just want to make sure."

Afterwards, Tim and Atarah left the room, and Atarah confronted him in the hall.

"What's going on? What did the doctor mean when he said possible to your question?" asked Atarah.

Tim sighed deeply, and closed his eyes, before opening them and looking at Atarah wearingly.

"I have acute lymphoblastic leukemia," said Tim.

The words hit Atarah like a brick. She looked up at Tim with a worried face.

"It's a form of cancer, I've had since I was a teenager. About five years ago, I went into remission, and I thought I was well on my way to being fully cured…until

now," said Tim.

Atarah couldn't believe it. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

Tim sighed again. "Because I thought…well, I figured since I hadn't suffered for such a long time, I wouldn't have to worry about it. I wanted to make sure you and

the girls were alright. I thought, maybe if I told you I was really sick, you wouldn't even ponder the thought of marrying me, since there is such a high chance I could

die."

Atarah blinked, trying to get her thoughts together. She swallowed.

"Do you think you're going to die?" she asked.

Tim read the words above her head from her antennas, then down to the floor, and then he looked back up at her.

"Maybe," he said.

Atarah wasn't sure what to say or think. So, she only did one thing. She gave Tim a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back. After a minute or so,

they headed off to the lab, so he could get blood drawn.

Author's note: And things are beginning to get sad again. Seems only too good to be true for poor Atarah, huh? See you tomorrow, grab your

Kleenex for next chapter.