I Married a Dying Man Because It Was His Final Wish—After His Funeral, His Lawyer Told Me Who He Really Was

PART 1 — JULIAN’S FINAL WISH

Three times a week, I volunteered with a local hospice support program.

Most of the people I visited were elderly or seriously ill and needed simple help around the house.

Sometimes I brought meals.

Sometimes I picked up prescriptions.

Sometimes I cleaned.

And sometimes the most important thing I did was sit at a kitchen table and listen.

A few months earlier, the program assigned me to a new patient.

His name was Julian.

He was around forty, had advanced cancer, and lived completely alone.

At least, that was what I believed.

Julian was sweet, kind, and surprisingly easy to talk to.

He had an odd sense of humor.

He hated television game shows.

Loved chess.

Drank chamomile tea even though he complained about the taste every single time.

Within weeks, visiting him stopped feeling like volunteer work.

We became friends.

I brought him meals.