I glance at the clock, 2am. Ben is sleeping soundly beside me and I watch him, my breathing unconsciously in rhythm with the rise and fall of his chest.

I do this often, wake in the early morning hours and watch him breathe. The fact that I could lose him is never far from my mind. I try to hide these thoughts from him, but I can tell by the way he looks at me, that they show in my eyes. It’s sometimes scary how well he can read me.

We’ve had seven years together, and I try not to look ahead, but I can’t help myself. The words he once said to me, live in the now, can’t push the dark thoughts from my mind, no matter how hard I try to believe in them.

I am grateful for every day we have together, but I know that no matter how long we have, I will always want more. He does everything right, swallows the pills every morning that do their job of keeping him alive. He exercises and eats well, but that doesn’t mean something might go wrong.

We don’t talk about the fact he could die. It’s as if, in my mind anyway, that if the words are never said, it won’t happen. Pretty naïve I know, but it’s what keeps me going some days.

Other times I just shut myself away and let my tears fall. Ben somehow knows that I need this time alone. He is there when I finally emerge from the dark place my mind takes me, to hold me and love me.

I want to grow old with him by my side, watch our children grow, maybe one day, have children of their own. I don’t think that’s a lot to ask but at times like this, when the darkness of the night surrounds me, my head is full of thoughts of one day being without him and that scares me to death.

I push these thoughts from my mind as I snuggle back again into the warmth of Ben’s body. He wraps his arms around me, dropping a sleepy kiss on my mouth, whispering a soft "I love you" in my ear.

I know that even in his sleep, he knew what my thoughts were.