The Secret Behind Kevin’s Smile

My husband Aaron met his best friend Kevin long before me, yet I knew little about him—three meetings, no wedding presence. Last week, I found a strange photo: Kevin in a hospital bed, grinning with a purple birthday hat, tubes in his arms, clutching a bear, dated three years ago. Aaron never mentioned Kevin’s illness. When I asked, he said, “It’s complicated,” then admitted Kevin was better now, though his expression suggested otherwise.

Unable to resist, I found a box labeled “K & A” with photos of their inseparable youth and a notebook from Kevin: “For Aaron, in case I don’t make it.” It detailed his leukemia battle, ending with, “Live a big life.” I cried. The next day, I confessed to Aaron, who revealed Kevin’s cancer, their college bond, and his death a year after our wedding—kept quiet per Kevin’s wish for Aaron to move on.

For Aaron’s birthday, I planned a gathering with Kevin’s sister Maddy, showing old videos. Maddy gave Aaron a flash drive—Kevin’s message urging a big life. Moved, we started a scholarship in Kevin’s name. Later, expecting a son, Kai (for Kevin), we felt his love endure.