"Lucy," a gentle voice brought me back to the present.

"Sorry for the long wait," Dr. Robertson smiled, then put several delicate boxes of cake in front of me. "I picked these up for you. You mentioned that you liked the cake from this place before."

"Should I order every coffee on the menu to make it up to you?" I joked.

"Oh, no thanks! I don’t want to stay up all night. A good night’s sleep is the foundation of a healthy life." Dr. Robertson laughed. "Try this one, they said it's their most popular one."

He handed me a small spoon. I took it, scooped a piece and tasted it.

"Not bad," I said, though pain roiled in my stomach. I was used to it by now.

I stared at the pretty cake while wondering how to begin the conversation.

Dr. Robertson had been my psychologist for the past six months. The first time I went to his office, I was so far gone that I could barely string a sentence together. He sat with me in silence for hours, then drove me home. At that time, Jack was leaving in a mission for almost half a year. I was alone, like an island about to be swallowed by the sea.

I didn’t dare burden him with my struggles. However, when faced with the choice between life and death, I chose not to break his heart.

I was afraid he would come home from his mission and find my cold, lifeless body. I wasn’t afraid to die. It was just I was afraid of making Jack sad.

How pathetic was that, right?

Up until yesterday, I had thought that even if Jack was tired of me and having an affair with Ivy, he would still mourn my death.

However, that was a pipe dream. He told his friend that he feared I would hang myself at home.

It was at that time I realized that no one in this world really cared about me.

However, that was fine too. I could leave this world without any guilt.

"Dr. Robertson, I think we’ll need to end our consultation sessions a little early," I said as I set down my spoon and pulled a diagnosis report from my coat pocket.

"The cakes are probably delicious, but I can’t really taste them anymore. I’m sorry for wasting your kindness."

Dr. Robertson's expression froze for a moment, then his head snapped up to look at me.

"Have you gone for a second opinion? Maybe it’s a misdiagnosis. I know some specialists, that can help you. I can take you right now!" He started to stand up.

"It’s not a misdiagnosis," I said firmly and reached my hand across the table to stop him.

After talking for a while, I managed to make him sit down again.

We sat in silence for a while until a familiar voice broke the tension.

"Lucy, what are you doing here?"

I looked up only to Jack, who was glaring at me and Dr. Robertson.

"So, this is why you want a divorce. You’ve already found someone else," he sneered. "Well, I won’t grant it. Forget about the divorce!"

Fury surged through me. I stood up abruptly and grabbed his collar.

"Jack, look behind you. Who’s flaunting their affair for everyone to see?"

I pointed at Ivy, who stood awkwardly in the background. My hands were trembling uncontrollably.

"You’re out of line, Lucy! There’s nothing between me and Ivy!" Jack snapped as if I were the one causing trouble.

"I don’t want to see you," I said, letting go of his collar and sinking back into my chair, defeated.

"Who is he?" Jack demanded, his hands on the table, his voice cold.

"My psychologist. I asked him to meet so I could end our sessions. Satisfied?" I replied, struggling to keep my emotions in check.

"Give me your phone," Jack ordered, then reached out his hand to take my phone from the table because he did not trust me.

At that very moment, I snapped and lost my sanity.

I picked up my cup of coffee and hurled it at his face, ice and all. Before he could react, I slammed the empty cup onto his head.

"Jack! You’d better forget me for real this time! Or I swear I’ll drag you to hell with me!" I yelled.

Jack grabbed my collar angrily. The veins in his arms were clearly visible.

Once, those strong arms had held me close and his mouth kept assuring me over and over, "Lucy, you have me. I’ll always be by your side."

However, I did not need anyone anymore.

A place to come home to was a lie. In the end, all a person could only have were himself.

I did not know when Aston had stepped in and positioned himself between me and Jack, to separate us. Meanwhile, a couple of store employees rushed over to hold Jack back.

I tugged at Aston's sleeve and shook my head, silently asking him not to say anything.

"You're crazy," Jack spat and pointed at me. His teeth clenched in anger.

How easy it was for a man to turn love into hate.

I let out a bitter smile as a wave of nausea churned in my stomach, then rose to the surface. As soon as a cough escaped my lips, I could hear a gasp of surprise from people around us.

"What's wrong with you?" Jack asked in surprise.

He stood there frozen. His gaze flickered from the fresh blood on the floor to me.

He frowned. There was hesitation and concern on his face.

Seeing this I scoffed, "You made me so angry I coughed up blood. Now leave, or you might be the death of me."

At that moment Jack realized that some people had started recording him on their phones. He stared at me for a few seconds and then said, "I have things to do. You should go to the hospital and get checked out. If your psychosomatic symptoms are this bad, I'll help you find another therapist later."

I just waved my hand dismissively to urge him to leave.

After he left, I sat back down. Aston looked worriedly at me. "Have you decided on a treatment plan?"

I shook my head.

"You know, I know a specialist in Saint City …" Aston began, but before he could finish his word, I cut him off with a tired sigh.

“I don’t want to go that far. I only have a few months left. I’m not interested in making the effort.”

"Dr. Robertson, I know you mean well. For that I thank you," I said and gave him a weak smile. "However, I really don't need it."

However, Aston was too persistent so after several days of coaxing, I finally relented and started chemotherapy at a local hospital.

On the first day of chemotherapy treatment, I regretted it.

The sharp, relentless pain crept through my veins and seeped into every nerve. My body trembled uncontrollably because of the pain. It was unbearable.

“I can’t do this. I can’t.…” My voice was hoarse and it felt like there was an iron block lodged in my throat, I could feel the metallic taste of blood coating my mouth.

I lay weakly on the hospital bed. I forced myself to get up. However, before my feet touched the ground and was able to myself, in the next moment, dizziness came over me.

I could hear the panicked shout of a nurse nearby.

The floor was so cold. It felt as if I was lying in a coffin made of ice.

I wondered why I agreed to go through this torture when I was going to die anyway.

When Aston arrived, I was in the middle of pulling the IV needle out of my hand. I dropped the needle without a second thought and then used the IV stand to pull myself up.

“Dr. Robertson, I know that mental health can affect treatment outcomes,” I said flatly. “Do you really think, with my current state of mind, this treatment will do any good?”

Aston looked heartbroken. He was about to say something but he could not bear to say it.

“Everyone has their own fate,” I said softly. “Please, stop worrying about mine.”

In the end, Aston drove me back to my home in West City. Before I got out of the car, he took my phone and set his number as my emergency contact.

“This neighborhood is a bit old. If anything happens, you can call me anytime,” he said.

I nodded and thanked him.

I was on the verge of collapsing when I arrived. However, as soon as I inserted the key, I felt something was wrong.

Someone had opened the door.

I became alert. When I was about to pull the key quietly and run downstairs to call the police, the door creaked open from the inside.

I instinctively tried to bolt, but a hand shot out from the doorway and grabbed my arm in an iron grip.

“What’s the rush? Are you feeling guilty? I saw you come back with that doctor.”

Jack yanked me inside like I was nothing but a rag doll, then tossed me onto the sofa. Pain shot through my back as my bones slammed into the hard edge of the couch.

He ignored my pain expression.

"Spit it out. When did it start? How far have you gone with him?"  His voice dripped with icy anger as he braced his arms on either side of me.

“I told you, he’s just my therapist!” I snapped, my frustration bubbled inside of me as I kicked wildly at him. I was too desperate wanting to escape his suffocating presence.

Jack's expression darkened. He reached for my arm, ready to pin me down, but froze when he saw the dark bruises staining my skin.