Her body had been itchy for days, the kind of itch that no lotion or quick rinse in the shower could soothe. At first, it was easy to dismiss. She mentioned it casually over breakfast, scratching her arms as she spoke. He glanced up from his coffee and said it was probably just an allergy—maybe something in the laundry detergent, or a reaction to the change in weather.
She wanted to believe him. Allergies were simple, harmless, and fixable. But the itch didn’t go away. It seemed to spread, creeping across her back, down her legs, even into her scalp. At night, she tossed and turned, the constant irritation keeping her awake. He noticed her restless movements but still reassured her. “We’ll get some antihistamines,” he said. “It’ll clear up in no time.”
Days turned into a week, and the itch grew worse. Her skin began to show faint red marks where she had scratched too hard. Sometimes the irritation was so deep it felt like it was under the skin, unreachable by her nails. She began wearing long sleeves to avoid the questions from coworkers, brushing off their concern with the same excuse he’d given—probably just allergies.
But then, other symptoms appeared. She felt unusually tired, her appetite faded, and her skin seemed almost yellow in certain lights. One evening, she noticed small bruises on her legs that she couldn’t remember getting. When she showed him, his confident expression faltered.
He suggested they see a doctor, just to be safe. The appointment was meant to be routine, a simple check to confirm it was nothing serious. But after a physical exam and some blood tests, the doctor’s tone changed. They were asked to wait in a small room, and when the doctor returned, he spoke carefully, his words slow and deliberate.
It wasn’t an allergy. The itch, the bruising, the fatigue—they were signs of something far more serious. A possible liver issue, maybe even an early symptom of a disease they hadn’t considered. Further tests were needed immediately.
The reassurance he’d offered days before now felt hollow, replaced by a quiet worry neither of them wanted to voice. She squeezed his hand, the two of them silently realizing that what had seemed like a small irritation might be the first signal of a much bigger battle ahead.
