Blood poured from my forehead, staining the white wall like graffiti.

It was so much pain that I knelt and begged him.

He clapped his hands and said, "Today, I'll show you who's the boss."

I finally realized that my husband was taking revenge on me for forcing him to undergo chemotherapy and suffer.

When Iris found out, not only did she not help me, but she also thought I brought it on myself.

With the painful lessons from my previous life, I wouldn't foolishly give my all again this time.

The attending doctor of the patient in the next bed came in, pulling me back from my thoughts.

The doctor said that the patient in the next bed had mid-stage stomach cancer, and they all fell into depression.

When Nathan heard this, he ate the apple I had just peeled for him and shamelessly sneered, "Huh, another unlucky person."

The person in the next bed heard this and angrily retorted, "Look at you, you're not any better off. Yours might be late-stage."

Nathan spat out an apple peel, scratched his head, pointed at me, and thought for a moment. "Do I have chronic gastritis or... what?"

I swallowed, my heart pounding uncontrollably, and added as calmly as possible, "Late-stage stomach cancer."

With a "thud," Nathan collapsed to the floor from the side of the bed.

Iris had just entered the room. When she saw this scene, she rushed in, grabbed Nathan's hand, and kicked me in the waist.

"Are your eyes just for decoration? How could you let my son sit on the floor?"

Iris tried hard to pull Nathan up, but she couldn't move him at all.

Iris squatted down and kept asking Nathan what had happened.

It took Nathan a long time to speak.

"Mom, do I have late-stage stomach cancer? Am I going to die?"

"Mom, I don't want to die. Can you donate your stomach to me?"

Iris stood up straight, glaring at me while pinching the flesh on my arm. "How dare you talk nonsense! If my son needs a stomach, I'll be the first to take yours."

I was no longer the weak and submissive person I had been in my previous life. As soon as she touched me, I squatted down and covered my head, shouting, "Mom, I'm sorry, please don't hit me."

Passersby, doctors, and patients all looked in, and only then did Iris awkwardly let go of me, forcing a smile. "I usually treat her very well."

The surrounding people gave knowing looks.

She had no choice but to turn and comfort Nathan, "My dear, you're fine. She is the one with late-stage stomach cancer."

It took a long time for Nathan to calm down.

I pretended to take a few days off from work.

In the following days, Nathan didn't ask about his condition and continued to follow the doctor's treatment plan.

Every day, he endured endless blood draws, medications, injections, quit smoking and drinking, and ate a bland diet.

By the seventh day, Nathan couldn't take it anymore.

As I was about to finish work, he asked me to bring him some cigarettes and alcohol.

In my previous life, when he was hospitalized and craved cigarettes and alcohol, he would sneak out to buy them.

When I found out and tried to stop him, he beat me publicly until I vomited blood.

Iris found out and blamed me for mistreating her son, saying, "What's wrong with drinking a little? A man who doesn't smoke or drink isn't a real man."

Thinking of this, I bought five bottles of the best liquor Nathan wouldn't splurge on and two packs of high-strength cigarettes, secretly bringing them to the hospital room.

Seeing the cigarettes and alcohol, Nathan perked up. After sneaking into the bathroom to smoke a pack, his appetite seemed to return.

He asked me to buy some spicy and sour appetizers and pig's head meat. He drank and ate happily.

While Nathan was eating, Iris came in with a lunch box along with the nurse on duty.

The nurse smelled the smoke and alcohol and scolded him loudly, "You're sick, and you're still smoking and drinking? Do you have a death wish?"

After the nurse left, Iris went up to comfort him and said, "Just bear with it for now. Once you're discharged, you can eat whatever you want."

Then she turned to me and said, "Are you dead? How could you let him smoke and drink? Are you trying to kill him?"

If it were in the past, I would have kept quiet to avoid making Nathan uncomfortable, but now, I just wanted to annoy her.

"Mom, didn't you teach me that I should obey my husband? I'm just following Nathan's words and not disobeying him."

Iris was at a loss for words, instantly silenced.

Then she waved her hand, signaling me to quickly remove the cigarettes, alcohol, and greasy food, and set up the nutritious meal she had prepared.

A bowl of oatmeal and a few light dishes.

Iris picked up a spoon to feed him.

Nathan suddenly swept the food off the tray onto the floor, shouting hysterically, "I'm sick of eating this food every day. I'm dying. Why can't I eat something good?"

Iris was so shocked that she slapped me. "Huh, what bad things did you say to him?"

Nathan started refusing to cooperate with the treatment.

After five years of marriage, although he didn't say it, I knew the words "late-stage stomach cancer" were deeply imprinted in his mind.

In my previous life, I had quit my job early to take care of him, going to great lengths to hide his condition and find ways to ensure he received proper treatment. In this life, I used financial pressure as an excuse to keep working.

While taking care of him in the hospital, I liked to walk around and often gossiped about cancer death cases I overheard.

When Iris asked him to take his medicine and get an IV, he threw a water cup at her, bruising her hand.

Iris, who had once retained her charm, quickly aged after a few sleepless nights at the hospital.

Meanwhile, my mood improved, and I even started to look younger.

At 9.00 pm, I was about to go home when Iris stopped me, insisting that I stay the night.

I thought it wasn't the right time to confront her, so I endured it.

The next day, just before work, I suddenly received a call from my manager telling me I didn't need to come in anymore.

I was momentarily stunned, gripping my phone tightly, trembling as I asked.

"Mr. Perez, I work hard and haven't made any mistakes. Why are you firing me?"