The Greatest Showman #750 – Hazy Eyes

Tessa felt an uncomfortable tightness in her chest—either a heart-piercing pain or a suffocating pressure, as if she couldn't breathe. She lowered her head and took a deep breath, then out of the corner of her eye, she noticed William sitting to her left, quietly crying.

William sat still, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, but tears streamed down his face like broken pearls. He let them fall silently. Tessa's nose suddenly became sore, and the tightness in her chest stirred her stomach, almost making her vomit.

Death felt more real than ever before. When life truly comes to an end, it's not the earth-shattering event depicted in movies or novels. Instead, it's quieter, like autumn leaves drifting down. It's silent, but it gradually paints a picture of desolation and loneliness.

William raised his head again, looking at Adam with calm eyes, stating to Catherine how normal death is, because "everyone dies, it's just a matter of time."

His lips were pale, devoid of color; his eyes were sunken, with dark circles mixed with a hint of blood; his cheeks were hollow and dull. Yet, in those dark brown eyes, a dim light still flickered—a quiet sadness and helplessness rising within him. As he spoke, his eyes reddened, the thin mist of tears forming but never fully materializing. He blinked, concealing the fragility behind those quiet, sorrowful eyes, which seemed as delicate as a shattered moon.

Tessa's heart clenched, as though a hand was gripping her heart tightly, with relentless force.

Chemotherapy had failed, and surgery was the only remaining option. But due to the size of the tumor, the risks were impossible to predict. This wasn't a "50/50" situation; there was no chance of success—just a gamble. Even the attending physicians couldn't assess the outcome until the operation was over.

This was the end—the fork in the road where death lay.

Anger surged in Adam. He blamed Katherine for her helplessness, his mother for being overbearing, Kyle for his selfishness, and the damn cancer that had ruined his life. Like a madman, he drove recklessly, risking everything. He shoved Kyle out of the passenger seat, slammed his hands on the steering wheel, and vented his rage without holding back.

"Ah..." Adam screamed, gripping the wheel with both hands. His voice tore through the air—angry, helpless, and full of pain.

Tessa covered her mouth, her vision blurred by hot tears. She lowered her head in embarrassment, wiping them away quickly. But the back of her hand burned with the heat of the tears. Then, she saw William's shoulders gently tremble. His face was tight with tension, his lips gritted, and tears continued to fall. His fragile moment was clear, revealed in the whiteness of his lips.

Words felt so inadequate in this moment. In the face of death, any justification, any explanation, any action seemed insignificant. He was so young, so healthy, so full of life, so kind, so genuine. In a world filled with ugliness, it was always the good ones who bore the heartbreak and despair.

Thinking of this, Tessa's tears burst forth uncontrollably.

After the catharsis, Adam slowly regained composure and returned to his daily routines. He prepared food for the dog, organized the cabinets that had long been neglected, cleaned the mess in the bathroom, threw out the trash in the kitchen, and even changed the bed sheets... Finally,

At midnight, he left his home, walking the familiar streets, each step marking the passage of his life.

This was a farewell—a goodbye to his past and perhaps an embrace of the unknown future. It was also a goodbye to himself, to life, and to the inevitable end. Looking into the bathroom mirror, Adam saw his bald head, haggard face, dark circles, and bloodless complexion. Yet, in the depth of his eyes, there was a faint light—so fragile, yet it shone with a quiet brilliance.

He turned off the lights and went to bed. "Good night."

Such a calm moment, with such trivial details, shattered all of Tessa's defenses. Adam's every action, so real yet so surreal, moved her deeply. She wanted to hold onto the light in his eyes—hold on to it desperately.

What does a 50% chance mean?

Sitting on the bed, the doctors explained the precautions and asked Adam to sign the necessary documents. Then, they began the preoperative preparations. His father, standing by with a smile, walked over, patted Adam's shoulder, and proudly showed off his new coat.

"I've got a new coat," he said, beaming.

"Really?" Adam smiled, genuinely interested.

"The Brooks Brothers," his father continued, as if it were the most exciting news. "The pocket's silk—you have to feel it!"

Adam reached into the pocket and touched the smooth lining. "How does it feel?"

"Very nice," Adam said, nodding in approval. Then, he lightly patted his father on the shoulder. "Listen, I know it's been hard for you to keep up with everything, but I just want you to know that I love you... a lot." His smile was full of warmth and conviction, and the light in his eyes grew brighter.

His father blinked, stunned by the words, his smile faltering. A blush rose in his eyes, and his voice caught. "Okay."

The anesthesiologist arrived to administer the anesthesia. "Please relax. I'm going to inject the anesthetic into your IV. It'll take a little while for it to kick in."

"Are you starting now?" Adam asked, panic creeping into his voice. The nurse gently guided his parents to the waiting room, but Adam couldn't stop asking, "How long will the medicine last?"

"It varies from person to person," the anesthesiologist replied calmly.

"Yes," Adam nodded, still unsettled. "But how do you know it's enough? How do you know it won't be too much, and I'll... never wake up?" His voice trembled, and he desperately reached out for help. "Mom?"

His mother rushed to him, wrapping her arms around him. "Baby, you'll be fine." She held him tight, tears flowing, wiping them away quickly so Adam wouldn't see.

Adam's teeth clenched, fighting to suppress the flood of emotions. But his eyes filled with tears—blankness, helplessness, and fear rippling through him like gentle waves. Small, yet overwhelming. Calm, yet tumultuous. It was the first time he had shed tears since his cancer diagnosis.

Tessa couldn't hold it any longer. She covered her mouth, but the tears flowed freely. Not out of fear, but because life was so precious, so fragile. Life was beautiful, yet so fleeting. In that moment, she understood the truth in Renly's words before the film screening:

"Movies are important, but there are things in life that are more important than movies."

The thought of tonight's accident, Renly's anger with the reporters, and the silence before he spoke filled her mind. She wept as she watched Adam being pushed into the operating room, his parents sitting motionless in the waiting room, and Kyle standing alone outside smoking a cigarette. Katherine was conspicuously absent. The tears kept coming.

It wasn't just Tessa. It wasn't just Hope and William. The entire auditorium was silent, drenched in sadness. The soft sounds of wiped tears and steady heartbeats filled the space. In this moment, "Anti-Cancer" had become something far more profound than ever before. Stripped of the premiere excitement, the entertainment of the film, what remained was the raw connection between life and art.

Five hours later, the surgery was finally over. The doctor's explanation was filled with technical jargon, some of which no one fully understood, but the most important part was clear: "... but he'll be fine."

A collective sigh of relief filled the room. Even Kyle couldn't resist muttering, "You should have said that earlier." The audience chuckled, easing the tension.

Tessa couldn't help but smile. The mood shifted back to lightheartedness as the comedy resumed. Adam, still groggy from anesthesia, babbled nonsensically. Tessa laughed until her cheeks hurt.

After leaving the hospital, Adam returned to his apartment, where Kyle changed his dressings. The two of them bickered like the old friends they were, making the audience laugh with their antics.

Later, standing in front of the mirror, Adam couldn't help but laugh at his reflection. "This is crazy, I look handsome."

"I miss you," Kyle said with a grin, making the audience erupt in applause and laughter. Tessa and Hope, wiping away tears and laughing uncontrollably, couldn't stop. Whether it was the burden finally lifting, or the joy of escaping death, it didn't matter. What mattered was that, at that moment, they were happy.

And Adam too—because tonight, he had a date. With Katherine.