I don't care if it's the most toxic of coping mechanisms, but I'm going to pretend that my wife didn't kill herself.

She was a light in the darkness, a hero that saved the world from the brink of nuclear war because she figured out a way to make the nuclear warheads fall out of the atmosphere harmlessly. She was the most selfless person I'd ever met. <br><br>But I'm going to pretend that she didn't kill herself right after. That she didn't decide that the reward for saving millions wasn't worth the price she payed for the rest of her life. <br><br>She was an astronaut before she was a hero. She was in the lead group to go to Mars, but something went wrong the day they were going to launch. The rocket was hit by a meteor, and burnt up in the atmosphere. They worked hard to repair it, but it was never realized. <br><br>Then the war started. Two sides, each with enough power to end the world. They went at it for years, but were eventually able to come to an agreement. The remaining nuclear warheads would be launched into space, were they would be harmless. The warheads were put into the repaired rocket, and ready to launch. <br><br>The day came, and it was about to launch. But something went wrong. The rocket was hit again, and this time, it fell. The warheads crashed and were going to explode in mere minutes. <br><br>It was then that my wife and I were picked up, along with a few other key people, by the government. They told us that there was still a chance to save the world. The warheads were built with a kill code, but it was impossible to crack. The only possibility was that someone that had cracked a similar code could crack it. <br><br>This is where I come in. Before the war, I was a professional card player (only a little over a year ago), but I cracked the security codes of several casinos and got away with millions (I'm not bragging, I'm not that good). The government found out, and that is how they cracked our safe. We were given two options. Death, or a chance to save the world. <br><br>We of course took the latter, and were flown to the site. We got to work, and a while later, we finally cracked the code. We ended the war, and were set free. We went home, celebrating what we had done, but I noticed that my wife was acting strange. <br><br>The next day, she was worse. She wouldn't eat, drink, or sleep. She wouldn't do anything but cry in our bed. The next day was worse. She wouldn't even move. I was worried. I called a doctor, who came to help. <br><br>It was then that we found out what was wrong. When we cracked the code, we were next to the warheads. When they were destroyed, the radiation found it's way into our bodies. We were given only a few months to live. <br><br>My wife took this badly. She had spent her entire life training to go to Mars. She was ready to die, but only there. She took her own life right after, and I was devastated. <br><br>I'm going to pretend that she's still here. That she didn't kill herself. I'm going to enjoy the last few months that we have together, surrounded by the light and the darkness.