What’s the worst thing anyone has ever asked you?

The Impossible Request

My dying sister asked my fiancé to pretend to love her until the end. And my mother called it a small favor. When I tried to tell her it wasn’t small, she sighed and said, “Your relationship will have years to recover. Judy has weeks.” I stared at her in disbelief. That was 3 weeks ago.

My fiancé, Daniel, and I were deeply in love. We had been together 2 years, lived in a cozy rental with a leaky bathroom light, and were planning a wedding this fall. We weren’t planning on having it so soon, but for the sake of my sister, Judy, we needed to. She’d been sick on and off since the end of high school.

First, it was leukemia, then remission, then it came back with a vengeance. This was the kind of story where you brace yourself for the ending long before anyone says the words.

Judy had this softness about her. People always said she was too sweet for this world. I used to hate that, like it meant she was already halfway gone. When Daniel and I got engaged, we invited the whole family over for dinner. I made a roast that dried out a little and Judy laughed and said it was still better than hospital food.

She wore this blue head wrap that brought out the color in her eyes. For a moment, I let myself believe we could have a normal night. Then she collapsed in the middle of dessert.

The hospital gave us the news. The cancer had spread to her lungs and liver. They told us months at first, but you could see it on the doctor’s face. It wasn’t going to be months. We put everything on hold. The wedding, the apartment search, everything became about Judy.

She moved in with me and Daniel so we could take care of her full-time. It felt like the right thing. It was the right thing. But something started to feel wrong.

Judy began asking Daniel to do little things. Could he bring her tea? Could he help her adjust the blankets? Could he go on a short walk with her when she couldn’t sleep? At first, it felt innocent. She was dying. Of course, we’d go above and beyond.

But after a while, it stopped feeling like caretaking. She’d smile when he walked into the room in this way I hadn’t seen before. She laughed too long at his jokes. She clung to his arm when they walked, even though she never used to. I tried to brush it off. I told myself I was being sensitive.

Then one night, I saw her sketchbook open on the couch. Judy loved to draw. She never showed anyone her art, but there were pages and pages of Daniel. Not just recent ones, some looked old: him laughing, him sitting at the dinner table, him in a hoodie from a year ago, dozens of pages.

I didn’t say anything. Not then. I just stared at it and felt something in me pull tight. Later that week, our mom, Margaret, pulled Daniel aside in the kitchen. I don’t know exactly what she said. I just remember her voice was soft and her eyes didn’t blink.

She said something like, “If you can ease her pain, even a little, wouldn’t it be worth it?” Daniel got quiet after that. He’d stare at Judy when she was sleeping. His hands would shake sometimes. He stopped making eye contact with me as much.

Then the doctors told us it wasn’t months, it was weeks, maybe less. That night, Judy asked to talk to both of us. She was in her robe. Her voice was barely there. She looked smaller than I’d ever seen her.

She said she had one wish, just one, and she knew it was selfish. She said she’d been in love with Daniel for years. She said she never planned to tell anyone. But now, with time running out, she wanted to ask.

She asked Daniel if he would pretend, just for a little while, just until the end. She said she wanted to feel what it was like to be in love and have that love returned, even if it wasn’t real, even if it was just pretend.

She looked at me when she said it, her eyes filled with tears. I think she expected me to say it was okay, to give her that because she was dying, because she was my sister. I couldn’t speak. I just stood there frozen. My heart was thudding in my ears and all I could think was, “How dare you?” Daniel didn’t say anything either.

He looked like someone had ripped the floor out from under him. His hands were balled into fists at his sides. He looked at me, then at her, then back at me, but he said nothing. That night, he left the house and didn’t come back for hours. When he finally did, he said he needed space. He slept on the couch. That was 2 days ago, and we’ve barely spoken since.

My mom called yesterday asking how things were going. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what Judy had asked. Instead, I just said we were managing. She told me Judy didn’t have much time left and that we should make her last day special. The way she said it made me wonder if she knew about Judy’s request. If maybe she had encouraged it during that kitchen conversation.

This morning, I woke up to find Daniel making breakfast for Judy. They were laughing about something and they both got quiet when I walked in. Daniel couldn’t look me in the eye. Judy gave me this sad smile that made my stomach turn. I don’t know what happened after I left last night. I don’t know what decision Daniel made.

I’m sitting in my car right now in the parking lot of a coffee shop trying to figure out what to do. My sister is dying. My fiancé is acting strange. And I’m stuck in the middle of the most impossible situation I could have ever imagined.

Am I wrong for not wanting to share my fiancé with my dying sister, even if it’s just pretend? Am I a terrible person for feeling betrayed by both of them? I don’t know what to do next. I don’t know if my relationship can survive this or if I even want it to.

The weight of this decision feels unbearable, crushing me a little more with each passing hour. Every time my phone lights up, I’m afraid it’s news about Judy or a message from Daniel explaining his choice. I drove around for hours after leaving that coffee shop. I couldn’t go home. Not yet. I needed to clear my head.

But every time I thought I was getting some clarity, my mind would circle back to Judy’s request and the look on Daniel’s face. I ended up at this little park where Daniel and I had our third date. We brought sandwiches and sat on a bench watching dogs chase frisbees. It felt like a lifetime ago.

My phone buzzed with a text from Daniel.

Where are you? I’m worried.

I didn’t respond.

Another buzz.

We need to talk. Please come home.

I turned my phone off and just sat there until the sun started to set. When I finally got home, the apartment was quiet. I found Daniel sitting alone in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee that had probably gone cold hours ago. Judy’s door was closed. He looked up when I walked in, his eyes red rimmed like he’d been crying.

“I told her, ‘No,'” he said before I could speak. “I can’t do what she’s asking.” “I won’t.” The relief that flooded through me was so intense, I had to grab the counter to steady myself, but it was quickly followed by guilt. My sister was dying, and I was relieved that my fiancé wouldn’t pretend to love her.

“How did she take it?” I asked. Daniel ran his hands through his hair. “Not well. Your mom called right after. She’s coming over tomorrow to help with the situation.” I felt a surge of anger toward my mother.

She’d always favor Judy, especially after the diagnosis. It was understandable in some ways. Judy needed more attention because of her illness, but this crossed a line.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said. “I should have shut this down immediately. I just—I was shocked. I never knew she felt that way about me.” I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Part of me wanted to ask if he’d ever given her reason to think he might return those feelings. But I pushed that thought away. That wasn’t fair to Daniel. This wasn’t his fault.

We slept in the same bed that night, but with our backs to each other. The space between us felt vast. The next morning, my mom arrived early. I was in the kitchen making coffee when she walked in without knocking. She had a key for emergencies, but this was the first time she’d used it without calling first.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice low so it wouldn’t carry to the bedrooms.

About Judy’s request, I tensed. “There’s nothing to talk about.” “Daniel already told her no.” My mom’s face hardened.

“Do you have any idea what she’s going through? The pain she’s in? The fear? If this small thing could give her some comfort in her final days,”

“Small thing?” I interrupted, trying to keep my voice down. “You think asking my fiancé to pretend to be in love with her is a small thing?”

“It’s pretend,” my mom insisted. “It’s not real, and it would mean everything to her.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. And what about what it would do to me? To Daniel? To our relationship? My mom sighed like I was being difficult.

“Your relationship will have years to recover. Judy has weeks, maybe days.” Before I could respond, Daniel walked into the kitchen. He’d obviously heard us talking. My mom turned to him with this pleading look that made my stomach turn.

“Daniel,” she said, “I know this is an unusual request, but please consider what it would mean to Judy.”

Daniel looked at me, then back at my mom. “I’m sorry, Barbara. I care about Judy deeply, but I can’t do what she’s asking. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone, including Judy.”

My mom’s expression changed. The pleading look was replaced with something colder. “I see. Well, I need to check on Judy.” She brushed past us toward the spare room.