CHAPTER 4

Life Continues to Happen

Cliff, in his infinite wisdom, once believed that life would graciously pause for him while he finished his studies and returned to Seatown. It was a cute thought, really. But as it turns out, life has a way of continuing at its own pace, regardless of how many textbooks you have to get through or how many sleepless nights you spend in the library. While Cliff buried himself in research, fully expecting the world to wait, life unfolded around him at a pace that was slower, yet relentless—like the tortoise in that fable, except this tortoise wasn’t racing anyone; it was just doing its own thing.

And to understand this part of Cliff’s life, let’s talk about a girl named Venus. Growing up in the small Palmtown, Venus was the kind of girl who brought light wherever she went—a lively spirit who spent her days climbing trees and walking home from school with her best friend, as if each day was a new adventure waiting to unfold. Their home was a warm, bustling place, filled with laughter and the smell of home-cooked meals. Discipline? That was a foreign concept in the household. Rules were seen as suggestions at best, and love flowed freely, unconfined by any structure or schedule.

As Venus grew older, her spirit remained as bright as ever, though her natural shyness added a touch of sweetness to her otherwise mischievous nature. She majored in English Literature at Grandtown, where the city buzzed with possibilities—and also, where she met Cliff. Their love story was one of fairytales, filled with dinner dates at a cozy Chinese restaurant, where they sat by large fish tanks shimmering with vibrant colors, making them feel as though they were dining in an underwater world. They enjoyed an exotic travel to a far-off island that seemed plucked straight out of paradise, and a Mediterranean cruise that felt like it was taken right out of a movie. They were the couple everyone envied—until reality decided to crash the party.

Not long after their engagement, Venus began to notice some troubling things. The world seemed a bit blurrier, and her vision wasn’t as sharp as it used to be. She saw an ophthalmologist who, after the obligatory "it’s probably nothing," prescribed some eyedrops and sent her on her way. The symptoms eventually vanished, and with their wedding on the horizon, the episode was quickly forgotten. Their honeymoon, a sun-drenched escape to a tropical island in the Indian Ocean, was picture-perfect, and for a while, life seemed like it really might be one of those cheesy romance novels Venus used to read.

But life, of course, had other plans. Venus's symptoms returned, this time with a vengeance. Dizziness and imbalance plagued her, turning even the simplest tasks into daunting challenges. Once again, doctors were baffled, misdiagnosing her condition as something that was likely to "get better on its own." And it did—for a time. They moved on, taking yet another dream vacation, this time on a Mediterranean cruise, convincing themselves that everything was fine.

Then came Canvas, their first daughter, a bundle of joy who brought light into their lives. Venus and Cliff savored every coo, every smile, and every milestone, as new parents do. But beneath the surface, Venus's health issues lingered. After Canvas's birth, the symptoms returned again with a new intensity—numbness all over, pins and needles, and a resurgence of dizziness that even Cliff couldn’t ignore (and that was saying something). This time, they consulted a neurologist, who finally identified the problem: a rare neurological disease that would progressively worsen with each episode, eventually leading to physical and mental dependence.

Venus was offered treatment—immune-suppressant injections that promised to reduce the frequency of episodes by 30%. But the side effects were grim: weakened immunity, increased risks of infections, cancer, and a lifetime of daily injections. Venus, not one to do things halfway, declined. She wasn’t about to trade her vitality for a 30% chance, and Cliff, who was torn between his love for her and the cold, hard facts, didn’t push. Instead, they both pretended the disease didn’t exist, focusing on the moment and making the most of the life they had.

Their journey took them across continents, from Grandtown to Scholarland, then to Prosperland, and finally back to Seatown, always with little Canvas in tow. Their small family, always hopeful, kept moving forward despite the looming shadow that followed them. In Scholarland, Venus conceived again, and when Cliff joined her for the first ultrasound, the nurse’s smile hinted at something unexpected. “Look at the screen,” she said. “What do you see?”

Cliff squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the fuzzy shapes. “Is everything alright?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t about to get another bill for an "unspecified medical condition."

The nurse’s grin widened. “I don’t see one baby. I see two—sleeping in bunk beds, one on top of the other.”

Cliff and Venus were overjoyed, though their excitement was tempered by a bit of panic. Venus had recently told Cliff about a dream her friend had—a vision of Venus receiving two roses. It wasn’t just a dream; it was a prophecy. The twins, Melody and Fable, were a gift—two babies for the price of one, because apparently, God knew Venus wouldn’t have the strength for another pregnancy.

The pregnancy was cherished, a time of preparation and anticipation. Canvas was sent to stay with a friend, and Cliff took a two-month leave to help Venus after the delivery. The twins arrived, tiny and perfect, immediately becoming the center of the family’s world. Canvas embraced her role as big sister with the grace of someone much older, which was a relief because Cliff had no idea how to manage three kids at once.

But just as the household grew, so did the severity of Venus’s disease. After the twins’ birth, her condition worsened dramatically. She could barely walk and had to be hospitalized in Scholarland. The doctors urged her to reconsider the injections she had previously refused. The joy of the twins’ arrival was soon overshadowed by the stark reality of her illness, prompting Cliff and Venus to return home and begin the treatment.

The journey back to Seatown was nothing short of a logistical nightmare. Cliff had to juggle the needs of Venus, who could barely stand, young Canvas, and the infant twins, all while managing the logistics of international travel. It was a test of his strength and endurance—both physical and emotional—and a crash course in the fine art of keeping it together when everything else was falling apart.

Back in Seatown, their life became a delicate balance of caring for the children, managing the household, and battling Venus’s relentless disease. Yet, despite the ever-present shadow of her condition, their home was filled with love, laughter, and the inevitable sibling squabbles. The kids, being all girls, avoided the dangerous adventures that might have come with boys—no climbing on cupboards or jumping off the furniture (at least, not that Cliff noticed). Their mischief was limited to toy battles and mild pushing matches, nothing that could harm them or their fragile mother.

As Venus began the injections, Cliff, ever the physician, searched tirelessly for alternative treatments. They found an experimental procedure, one that seemed promising in videos of other patients. Desperate, they embarked on a journey to three foreign countries, investing time, hope, and a significant amount of money. But the disease remained unyielding, defying every attempt to slow its progress.

When modern medicine failed, they turned to faith. Their spiritual journey took them to sacred mosques and shrines, where they prayed fervently for a miracle. But after four trips and countless prayers, they faced the sobering reality: the disease was here to stay. Acceptance came slowly. For Venus, it was the hope that perhaps things wouldn’t get as bad as feared. For Cliff, the medical professional, it was the knowledge of what was to come that ate at him daily. He knew the progression, the inevitable decline—he just didn’t know when. But he kept this to himself, shielding Venus from the harshest of truths, preserving her hope.

Cliff’s isolation deepened. He cried alone, not wanting to burden Venus with his despair. The weight of his knowledge was a heavy secret to bear, and his natural introversion left him with no one to confide in. His journey became a solitary one, marked by silent suffering.

To cope, Cliff turned to food—his old, reliable friend. Fast food, soft drinks, and chocolate became his solace, and with it came the inevitable weight gain. His body began to protest—knee pain, back pain, and the creeping sense that he was aging far too soon. The day his back pain kept him bedridden was the day he realized how far he’d let himself go. Climbing stairs left him winded, a stark reminder that while he was busy being everyone else’s rock, his own foundation was crumbling. The mirror reflected a man he barely recognized, and it was then that he decided something had to change… or at least that he needed to find a better coping mechanism than inhaling donuts…