๐Ÿ’”๐Ÿ”ฅ Holding the Flame for Juan ๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿ’”

Today, I write with trembling hands โ€” not as a wife alone, but as a woman balancing grief and hope in the same breath ๐Ÿ™.
Juan โ€” my husband, my love, my hero โ€” was hurt doing what he has always done: running toward danger so others could run away ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿš’โค๏ธ.

He left home with that familiar smile and a gentle promise, โ€œIโ€™ll be back soon.โ€
Now he lies in a hospital bed ๐Ÿฅ, intubated and unconscious, fighting silently โ€” bravely โ€” in a battle none of us expected ๐Ÿค.

๐Ÿฅน All I can do is hold his hand, feel the warmth thatโ€™s still there, and whisper the only words my heart knows:
โ€œPlease come back. Please keep fighting.โ€

โœจ๐Ÿ™ If youโ€™re reading this, I ask from the deepest place in my soul โ€” send a prayer, a kind thought, a spark of strength his way.
Juan has carried the flame for so many lives ๐Ÿ”ฅ.
Now, together, letโ€™s carry it for him โ€” with love, faith, and unwavering hope ๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿค.