02
I met Dr. Forbes three months ago; incidentally, he’s also my primary physician. Whenever I go for a follow–up, he sternly advises me to check into the hospital for treatment immediately, saying early intervention might still offer a glimmer of hope. Each time, I smile and say, “We’ll wait a bit longer. I know what I’m doing.”
Perhaps my stubbornness–my refusal to cooperate with treatment–has left a lasting impression on him.
As I watch the medicine drip, drop by drop, from the IV bag, it mirrors my life, dwindling away bit by bit.
“Miss Kelly, today I must firmly tell you-”
“I need to be hospitalized for treatment, or else my condition will worsen!” I interrupt him.
Dr. Forbes looks at me, anxiety clear in his eyes, “If you know all this, why won’t you seek treatment? Do you not realize how serious your condition is? Your cancer cells are spreading rapidly.”
I asked him, “Would I die sooner if I don’t seek treatment?”
Dr. Forbes pursed his lips, staring at me before finally nodding.
“Good,” I said. “I want to die sooner.”
A bitter smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Compared to death, I fear living more.
“How long do I have left?” I asked.
“Six months at most, three at the minimum,” Dr. Forbes replied, still unwilling to give up. “But if you cooperate with the treatment, you might live a year or
two longer. Don’t give up on yourself.”
I shook my head. I had already given up.
After spending the night in the hospital, Dr. Forbes brought me mushroom soup the next morning. As soon as I ate something, the stomach pain hit, and wanted to vomit. I forced down a few sips, though it took all my strength.
He offered to drive me home, and since I didn’t have a car, I accepted.
When I got out of the car, he handed me a bottle of medicine. “This is stronger for pain relief, but don’t take too much.”
“Got it. Thank you, Dr. Forbes,” I said, accepting the medicine.
“You should seriously consider getting treatment.”
“Thank you, Doctor Forbes, for driving me home. By the way, add me on Instagram later so I can transfer you the money.”
When I entered my bedroom, I saw Stanley standing by the window. I immediately turned, hoping to retreat to another room. I didn’t want to face him.
“You didn’t come home last night, out with some man. No wonder you dared to refuse me and even bite me yesterday–you’ve already found someone else.
“I didn’t! Don’t talk nonsense.”
Stanley stormed over and grabbed my neck, glaring at me with rage. “Does he know you’re a murderer?”
I clawed at his hand, the suffocation making my head feel like it was about to explode. “I’m not!” I gasped.
He threw me onto the bed.
“Kelly, you’ll spend your entire life atoning for your sins in front of me.”
Maybe it was because I was dying, but I wasn’t afraid anymore. I pointed at him and shouted, “Stanley, if you really think I’m a murderer, why don’t you call the police? You have no evidence because Beth’s death isn’t related to me. And with the Williams family’s influence, you could easily have me killed without
the police? You have no evidence because Beth’s death isn’t related to me. And with the Williams family’s influence, yöl
a trace, right? So why haven’t you done it yet? Maybe because you’re in love with me! Or better yet, maybe you’re in love with my body!” I laughed bitterly, the sound of it turning into a sob. “You’re a hypocrite, Stanley! The worst of them all.”
I laughed until tears streamed down my face.
Stanley’s face remained rigid, his expression hard. “I don’t love you. I’ll never love you. The only person I’ve ever loved was Beth. I’ve loved her for over a decade.” He repeated it like he was trying to convince himself.
Before he could finish his sentence, something in me snapped. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.
This was our first kiss since we got married.
Later, after his bath, as he dressed with his back to me, he warned, “Stay away from that man, or I’ll make sure he disappears.”
“He’s my doctor.”
“Hah, doctors sure offer comprehensive services these days, even driving patients home. Kelly, don’t test my patience.”
I took a deep breath and said, “Stanley, I’m dying. I have late–stage stomach cancer.”
Stanley paused for just a split second, then sneered. “Kelly, your act is convincing, I’ll give you that. Planning to fake your death and escape? If you do die, I guess the heavens have finally had enough of you and are sending you down to apologize to Beth.”
I knew he wouldn’t care. Whether I lived or died was irrelevant to him. Keeping me alive was only so he could torment me longer. But hearing him say it still pierced my heart.
The day of the cocktail party, Susan must have feared Stanley would neglect me, so she had a stylist and several gowns delivered to the mansion.
My complexion was terrible. Each time the makeup artist applied foundation, she sighed in frustration.
In the end, we settled on a fiery red strapless gown that seemed to be the only color that suited me.
At the banquet, the lights blazed brilliantly. Men in sharp suits and women dressed to the nines mingled around the grand hall. Some were deep in business discussions, while others gossiped like socialites.
I stood in a corner, completely out of place.
An ugly duckling remains an ugly duckling–even dressed in the most expensive gown, I couldn’t transform into a swan.
I suppose Stanley hadn’t intended to bring me along today. After all, not far from him, arm–in–arm with another woman, was someone wearing a fiery red
gown similar to mine.
I quietly watched their retreating figures.
It must have been someone seated across from him who noticed me and informed him.
He turned his head to look in my direction. I didn’t avoid his gaze but returned a bold, hearty smile.
Was my smile too dazzling, or was it because I had clashed outfits with his female companion? Stanley furrowed his brow, clearly displeased.
When the woman turned her head, I was taken aback. Her features, especially her eyes, closely resembled Beth’s.
“Mr. Williams, who is she? Why is she staring at us like that?” the woman’s voice was soft and delicate.
Stanley gently stroked her long hair. “Someone who owes me something.”
So, even a substitute for Beth gets his tenderness. My heart pounded as if a giant hand had wrapped around it, squeezing tighter and tighter. The pain
was unbearable.
I clenched my fists, my gaze never leaving them.
Stanley walked over with the woman, his face cold. “This place isn’t for you. Get lost and stop disgracing the Williams family.”
I hadn’t even spoken when I saw the woman cover her mouth, her eyes fixed on my wrist, “Mr. Williams, why is her wrist bent like that?”
I quickly covered my left wrist and sneered, “Of course, it’s because Stanley bere broke it himself.”
It had happened after my wedding to Stanley, on the anniversary of Beth’s death.
He came home late that night, and I was so scared hid in another bedroom.
Much later, when I was about to fall asleep, he yanked me out of bed. When I reached the living room, I saw candles everywhere, and in the center was a picture of Beth.
“Kneel and pay homage to Beth!” he ordered.
There was no way I would kneel to her. My entire tragic life was thanks to her. Even now, dead, she still haunted me.
When I refused to kneel, Stanley resorted to violence.
In the struggle, I grabbed Beth’s photo and smashed it on the ground. The candle nearby tipped over, and the paper photo under the glass caught fire instantly.
“Beth!” Stanley rushed to stomp out the flames, but most of the picture was already destroyed.
He thought I killed my half sis so he married me as revenge. As I was tortured to death, my sister came back
In the struggle, I grabbed Beth’s photo and smashed it on the ground. The candle nearby tipped over, and the paper photo under the glass caught fire
instantly.
“Beth!” Stanley rushed to stomp out the flames, but most of the picture was already destroyed.
“Why do you keep treating Beth like this? She’s dead, yet you’re still so malicious!” Stanley, now crazed, yanked my hair and threw me to the ground. The glass shards cut my hand.
As I clutched my bleeding hand, trying to get up, I saw Stanley pick up a baseball bat, walking toward me slowly.
“Was it this hand that smashed her photo? Your left hand, right?”
Panic seized me, and I tried to run, but he pulled me back.
“Stanley, calm down! I won’t do it again, please don’t!”
“You had the audacity to smash Beth’s photo. I’m going to break your hand so you remember your manners.”
Desperate, I grabbed a candle and threw it at him, hoping to escape. But he swiftly responded with a harsh kick to my stomach.
The pain exploded through my body, and I collapsed, clutching my abdomen. After another brutal kick, I couldn’t rise anymore.
The sharp pain in my lower abdomen, and the warm gush from below, told me I was losing something precious.
