PART 1
On the day I lost my battle with cancer, my husband was busy celebrating his mistress‘ birthday.
When the doctor called to inform him about my death, he dismissed it as another of my attempts to avoid divorce.
He coldly replied, “If she wants to die, let her die. At least it saves me the trouble of divorcing her.”
But fate had other plans. A documentary about my fight against cancer unexpectedly went viral, and news of my death spread across the internet.
Only then did he realize the gravity of the situation and rushed to the hospital.
When he saw my lifeless body, he broke down in tears, crying, “Wendy, I’m sorry. I was wrong!”
But it was too late. I would never come back to hear his apologies.
1
Three years of marriage to Terry Shane, followed by two years of separation.
His globetrotting with Katherine Lynn made me the laughingstock of our social circle.
A month ago, we met for the last time. I told him I was unwell, hoping he’d stay.
Instead, he rushed in, tossed divorce papers at me, and left, saying coldly, *Next time we meet, I hope it’s because you’ve agreed to divorce.”
Now, I’m in a hospital bed, cancer eating away at me. The pain is unbearable.
The doctor holds a phone to my ear, pleading for someone to answer.
I listen to the cold ringtone, despair growing with each unanswered ring. “Please, pick up,” the doctor begs, voice cracking, palms sweaty.
I just want to tell Terry I’ll sign the papers.
But I know it’s hopeless. He’s probably blocked my number long ago. Staring at the bland ceiling, I feel the last of my hope fade.
PART
I give up, knowing he’ll never come.
The heart monitor flatlines with a long beep.
Silent tears roll down my cheeks.
Terry will probably be relieved when he hears I’m gone.
2
