While my daughter lay seriously ill in the hospital, clinging to life by a thread, a miracle seemed to unfold—a kind-hearted soul had finally come forward to donate the organs she desperately needed. My heart, heavy with worry and fear, was filled with a sliver of hope. I decided to go to the hospital personally to thank the donor, or at least express my gratitude to their family.

Just as I was about to leave, my phone rang. It was the hospital. The voice on the other end was strained, almost frantic. "Your daughter's condition has suddenly worsened," the nurse informed me, her words sharp and cold. My breath caught in my throat. "But that's not all... the donated organs were taken by someone else."

I felt as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath me. "What do you mean, taken?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mixture of panic and disbelief. "Who would do such a thing?"

There was a pause before the nurse answered, "It was your husband, ma'am. Adam."

Stunned, I fumbled to call Adam immediately, my fingers shaking as I dialed his number. The phone rang a few times before it was picked up, but instead of Adam’s voice, a soft, familiar voice greeted me.

"Adam is in the shower. Who's calling? Can I help you with something?" The voice was gentle, almost soothing, but it sent a chill down my spine. I recognized that voice—it was Kate, Adam’s ex-girlfriend.

Confusion and anger surged through me. Why was she with Adam? Why now, of all times? But there was no time to dwell on it. My daughter needed me. Desperately, I explained the situation, pleading for Kate to tell Adam to return the organs. There was a brief silence on the other end before she hung up on me, leaving me staring at the phone in disbelief. When I tried calling back, it went straight to voicemail. She had turned off the phone.

Heart pounding, I rushed to the hospital as fast as I could, my mind racing with unanswered questions and rising panic. When I arrived, the air felt heavy, filled with the sterile scent of antiseptic and the quiet murmurs of despair. I ran through the corridors, hoping against hope that I wasn’t too late.

But when I finally reached my daughter's room, it was too late. The monitors were silent, her small body lying still on the bed. My world shattered in that moment. I had only a few precious minutes to hold her hand, to whisper how much I loved her, before the nurses gently pulled me away.

As I stood there, numb with grief, the reality of what had happened began to sink in. My husband had chosen someone else over our daughter—his own flesh and blood. The organs that could have saved her had been stolen away and with them, my last shred of hope.

It took me more than ten agonizing days to arrange my daughter’s burial. Those days felt like an eternity—every moment a reminder of the life I’d lost and the pain that wouldn’t subside. During that time, Adam never returned home, not even a call. It was as if he had vanished from my life completely. I had already given up on him, so I didn’t bother reaching out. I knew I had to move forward, even if that meant doing it alone.

On the day he finally returned, I was in my daughter’s room, packing away her belongings—her favorite toys, her tiny clothes, the little memories of a life cut too short. The house was eerily quiet, filled with the ghosts of what could have been.

Adam walked in and slumped onto the sofa, looking exhausted as he rubbed his temples. “I’m hungry,” he said, his voice flat and indifferent. “Make me a bowl of noodles.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I quietly pulled out the divorce agreement I had prepared days ago. I placed it on the coffee table in front of him, the papers crisp and stark against the dark wood. “I’ve already signed it,” I said, my voice steady. “Take a look. If there’s nothing you disagree with, just sign it.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only one o’clock in the afternoon. “There’s still time. Sign it and we can go to the Civil Affairs Bureau to finalize the divorce today.”

Adam’s hand froze as he reached for the papers. He looked up at me, his brow furrowed in confusion and irritation. “Rachel, what are you making a fuss about?”

Making a fuss? His words hit me like a slap in the face.

Adam and I had been inseparable since kindergarten, sitting together as deskmates through elementary school, middle school and even high school. We’d been admitted to the same university and everyone around us assumed we would end up together. I thought so too. For years, I tried to break through the invisible barrier between us, but Adam never responded. I was ready to move on, to let go, but he wouldn’t let me. He kept me close, never truly accepting me but never letting me go either.

In college, when he started dating Kate, I thought that was the end of whatever it was between us. But he would come running back to me every time they fought, seeking comfort and healing. And each time, I foolishly let him. When Kate went abroad after graduation without a word, Adam turned to me once again. I was his safe haven, the one who patched him up when he was broken. We finally got together during that year of ‘healing’ for him and for a brief moment, I thought we could be happy.

Looking back, I realize now that I had loved him for as long as I could remember—for 32 years, to be exact. And in those 32 years, I had given him everything, only to be left with nothing.

Adam, seeing that I hadn’t spoken for a long time, suddenly sneered. “Okay, Rachel, I get it. I know I’ve been busy lately and haven’t paid much attention to you. I’ll make it up to you, so stop making a scene.”

He pointed at the divorce papers with his long, slender fingers. “I’ll pretend I never saw these.”

I felt a surge of anger rise within me, but I kept my voice calm. “Adam, listen carefully—I want a divorce.”

No matter how deep my feelings for him had been, they had died along with my daughter. There was nothing left to salvage.

His expression darkened, frustration creeping into his voice. “You’ve gone too far! I’ve only been away for a little over ten days and you’re blowing this out of proportion. And what about Tania? If we get divorced, do you want her to grow up in a single-parent household? What kind of mother would do that? You have no sense of responsibility!”

I could hardly believe the audacity of his words. He had the nerve to mention Tania? Our daughter who had died because he was too busy with Kate to care?

I took a deep breath, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Adam, you don’t deserve to mention Tania’s name. When we needed you most, you were with Kate. Now you dare to talk about responsibility?”

For a moment, Adam looked flustered, then his expression hardened. “You’ve been spying on me? How else would you know Kate is back?”

“I don’t want to argue with you anymore. Just sign the papers.”

I turned away from him, not wanting to see the look on his face any longer. My phone suddenly rang, interrupting the tense silence between us. I glanced at the screen—it was the cemetery staff.

“Hello?”

“Miss Rachel, you need to come to the cemetery immediately. Someone is trying to dig up your daughter’s grave.”

The blood drained from my face. I didn’t have time to argue with Adam anymore. Grabbing my bag, I rushed out the door without looking back. My heart pounded in my chest as I raced to the cemetery, praying that I wasn’t too late to protect what little I had left of my daughter.

After arriving at the cemetery, I rushed to my daughter's grave, my heart pounding in my chest. A group of people were already there, pushing and shoving with the cemetery staff. Amid the chaos, a woman in a white dress stood in front of the grave, clutching a penguin doll. It was Kate.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw the grave had been dug up, the pink coffin of my daughter now exposed to the world. The sight was like a dagger to my heart, piercing me with a pain so intense I could hardly breathe.

I walked over, my steps heavy with anger and grief, until I stood directly in front of Kate. My voice was cold and steady as I asked, "Did you let them dig it up?"

Kate looked up, clearly startled to see me. But then she smiled, a sickeningly sweet expression that only fueled my rage. "Sister Rachel," she began, "it’s you. Yes, I asked them to—"

Before she could finish, I raised my hand and slapped her across the face, the force of it knocking her to the ground. The slap echoed through the air, a sharp, satisfying crack. But the satisfaction was fleeting, overwhelmed by the hatred and despair bubbling up inside me. I moved to kick her, driven by an uncontrollable need to hurt her as much as I was hurting.

But before I could, Adam suddenly appeared. He pushed me away, his face twisted in anger. "Rachel, how long are you going to keep this up? I only saw Kate once since she came back and now you’re hitting her? Where’s your dignity?"

His words stung, but not as much as seeing him rush to Kate’s side. He helped her up and she collapsed into his arms like a delicate, helpless creature. Her voice was soft and tremulous as she spoke, "Rachel, why are you doing this to me? I only came back to say goodbye to Adam."

She clung to the penguin doll, her grip tightening as if it were a lifeline. "This was the pet doll we raised together. Even though we’re apart, it’s like a bond that still ties us together. I wanted to bury our Peggy here and then Adam and I will have no more ties. This cemetery is the best in the area and there’s only one plot left. Please, Rachel, let us have it so we can bury our Peggy."

She looked up at Adam with teary, imploring eyes and he stared back at her, his expression conflicted. Then his gaze shifted to the tombstone and the color drained from his face. His eyes widened as he saw the photo of Tania and her name etched into the stone.

He looked back at me, fury replacing the shock. "Rachel, why did you erect a tombstone for Tania in advance? Are you trying to curse our daughter?"

His words were like a slap to my face and for a moment, I was too stunned to speak. The absurdity, the cruelty of his accusation, left me reeling. I could barely process what he was saying—this man, who had abandoned us when we needed him most, who was now accusing me of something so vile.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my voice trembling with rage and heartbreak. "Curse? Adam, our daughter is already gone! She died because you were too busy with her!" I pointed at Kate, who was still nestled in his arms. "You don’t deserve to mention Tania, not after what you’ve done."

Adam’s face twisted with guilt and anger, but I didn’t care anymore. The man I once loved, who I had spent my entire life caring for, was nothing more than a stranger to me now.