After my husband's car accident, I did a checkup and found out he had a malignant brain tumor. Instead of telling him right away, I stuck the report in my bag, planning to wait for the right moment.

Guess what? He found it first—and thought I was the one with the tumor.

A few days later, I overheard him in his office, laughing with a buddy:

"My wife? No looks, no figure, just money—and now she's got a brain tumor. Talk about a win for me. If Rainee hadn't gone abroad, I'd never have married her. Bad luck, huh? At least I dodged the kid bullet. Once she's gone, I get everything."

Then he pulled the amnesia card, blamed it on the accident, and started treating Rainee like his wife. He even welcomed her into our house.

I smiled and said, "Nathan, let's get a divorce."

I stood outside Nathan Hale's office, chest heaving, my hands trembling. His voice carried through the door, casual and cruel.

Not only did he think I had a brain tumor, but he sounded downright disgusted by me.

I almost barged in, ready to demand an explanation, but then his tone shifted—soft, affectionate. My heart sank. He was on the phone with Rainee Slade.

"Rainee, you coming over later? I'll pick you up, and we'll hit our spot. Don't worry. Feeling so much better now—thanks to you. You've been amazing. Not like Liana, who couldn't care less. Honestly, I regret everything."

I stared at the container of soup in my hands, hours of effort now mocking me. A cold wave washed over me.

Yeah, Nathan. Same here.

When his call ended, I bolted. On my way out, I passed a trash can and chucked the soup without even slowing down.

Before I made it far, Nathan texted me: [In a meeting. Back late.]

I locked the screen, staring at my reflection in the black glass. God, I'd never felt smaller.

The rain was relentless, and by the time I got home, I was soaked to the bone. I hadn't even noticed how drenched I was, too focused on rushing the soup over to Nathan. By nightfall, I was running a fever.

After popping some medicine, I collapsed onto the couch, only to be jolted awake by Nathan's annoyed voice.

"Liana! I called you so many times. What's the point of having a phone if you don't use it? Seriously, why are you always like this?"

I blinked groggily at my screen, the missed calls glaring back at me. "I wasn't feeling well. Just wanted to rest for a bit."

"A headache?" he scoffed. Then, as if catching himself, he added, "You're always overthinking stuff. That's probably why you're spiraling."

I knew what he was really saying—he thought my "tumor" symptoms were ramping up.

When I stayed quiet, he sank onto the couch next to me, loosening his tie. "Had dinner with a client tonight. Heard something wild.

"The guy's friend had a wife with cancer. She refused treatment. Said it'd be less of a burden on her husband and family since, you know, cancer's pretty much a death sentence anyway."

I froze. I'd thought his earlier jokes to his buddy were just that—jokes. But he wasn't kidding.

Every word hit like a slap. He didn't care if I lived or died.

Forcing a bitter smile, I said, "Yeah, I think so too. When one person has cancer, the whole family pays the price."

His eyes lit up like I'd just handed him a golden ticket. "You really think that way?"

I nodded. That's right, Nathan. If you skipped treatment, I'd save a fortune.

The next morning, I called the hospital, keeping my tone steady. "I need to take an extended leave. Something's come up at home."

On the other end, Clara's voice wavered. "Liana, did you hear about the results from your husband's checkup? You're a doctor—maybe you could convince him to come in for treatment."

I wore a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "I've tried. He's convinced it's hopeless and refuses treatment."

Clara paused for a long moment before letting out a sigh. "I, uh... I called him to try and convince him, but he got angry. Said no one in his family has cancer and told me not to tell you anything. He said you needed to rest. I don't get it."

But I did. Nathan didn't want me—the one he thought was dying—to get any help.

A dry laugh rose in my throat, but it twisted into something bitter. "If the hospital can't change his mind, what do you think I can do?"

After hanging up, I started packing. Eight years in this house, and suddenly, it felt foreign.

This place, this life—Nathan included—I didn't want any of it anymore.

Halfway through packing, my eyes locked on a dark green box shoved into the back of the cabinet—the one Nathan always said was off-limits.

Well, too bad. What else did I have to lose?

I flipped it open, and the pain hit like a wrecking ball.

Inside were plans Nathan and Rainee had made—"99 things to do together."

The first card on top? Real cute: [In this life, I want to have a beautiful baby with Rainee.]

And the back? A gut punch: [Last time, Liana accidentally got pregnant. I'll only have kids with Rainee. Thankfully, she miscarried.]

The baby I'd dreamed about for so long—Nathan hated it from the start.

Everything clicked. He never let go of Rainee. He never wanted me. I was just the paycheck.

I blinked back the tears, snapped a few photos, and put the box right back where it was.

Then, the front door beeped. My stomach flipped as I peeked through the crack.

Nathan. With Rainee.

He looked excited, holding her hand. "Rainee, my brain's been a little off since the accident. Lucky for me, you're so sweet, taking care of me."

I pushed the door open, stepping out just in time to hear Rainee's sugary voice. "Well, I did major in nursing—it's the least I can do."

She leaned in, brushing against him.

The second she saw me, she froze, her eyes going wide before she gasped, over-the-top. "Oh... Liana, you're home?"

She pulled away from Nathan, acting all flustered, but her eyes wouldn't meet mine.

Nathan didn't even flinch. He yanked her right back, glaring at me. "Let me guess—you were spying on my call with Rainee again last night? What is WRONG with you? She took time off to take care of me, and here you are, acting paranoid and crazy."

I stared at him, too disgusted to even respond. The sickness in my body couldn't touch the sickness I felt just looking at him.

Swallowing the nausea, I shot back, "Wow, Nathan. I'm not even in the ground yet, and you've already got her here to play nurse?"

Rainee swayed, putting on her best damsel act, her voice all shaky as tears pooled in her eyes. "Liana, you've got it all wrong... Nathan and I—"

Before she could finish, Nathan grabbed his head like he'd been hit by a sledgehammer, groaning dramatically.

Rainee freaked, clutching his arm. "Nathan, what's wrong? Don't scare me!"

He twisted his face in over-the-top pain before suddenly pulling her into a hug, murmuring, "Honey..."

Then he turned to me, eyes blazing, and yelled, "Who are you? What are you doing in my house? Get out!"

...Seriously? Brain cancer doesn't cause memory loss like this. It was so fake it hurt.

Leaning against the doorway, I folded my arms. "You might want to take a good look at the wedding photo on the wall before asking me who I am."

Nathan pulled Rainee closer. "How would I know when you put that up? I only love my wife, Rainee!"

He added more Oscar-worthy dramatics, clutching his head like he was seconds away from rolling on the floor.

Rainee turned to me, her face dripping with fake concern. "Nathan must have temporary amnesia from the accident. Please, Liana, don't upset him. If he only remembers me right now, let me stay and take care of him. You can... move out for a while."

I turned and headed to my room. "Don't bother begging. I was already planning to leave."

A few minutes later, I walked out with my suitcase. Setting the divorce papers I'd prepped that morning on the table, I said flatly, "Nathan, let's get divorced."

When I brought up divorce, Nathan's face twisted. He snatched the papers off the table and shredded them in one quick motion.

"Divorce? Do you think I'm an idiot? You're not getting away with this. I'm not signing a thing."

His jaw clenched as he spat out his next words. "This is just another one of your little schemes to scam me, isn't it? Newsflash—it's not happening."

I had expected this reaction, so I didn't hold back. "You won't sign because you're waiting for me to die and cash in on my inheritance. Am I wrong?"

His eyes narrowed, rage flickering across his face. Then he grabbed my suitcase and chucked it out the door. "Shut your mouth! Get out—now!"

Rainee, standing beside him, put on her best 'concerned girlfriend' act, grabbing my hand. "Liana, please. Don't upset Nathan. He's been through so much already."

I couldn't help but laugh. Pitiful? Without me, he'll finally understand the real meaning of the word.

***

After I left, I decided it was time to quit the hospital. Not to run away—more like finally saying yes to my mentor's offer to join a big medical research project overseas. I'd bring the results back one day, but for now, it felt like my chance to break free.

For years, I'd stayed put, tangled up in Nathan's mess. But now? I knew this project mattered. And I wanted in.

That afternoon, I threw on jeans and a hoodie, then headed to the hospital. Clara Finch, my friend and go-to work buddy, caught me as soon as I walked in. Her face screamed worry.

"Dr. Carter, are you serious about this? Losing you is such a blow for the hospital!"

I laid it all out for her, from Nathan's lies to my plan to move on. When I was done, she just sat there, wide-eyed, until finally, she burst out: "What a... what a piece of garbage!"

Her face shifted, her brows pinching together as she glanced over my shoulder.

I turned. And there they were—Nathan and Rainee, strolling in.

Nathan cranked up the drama, practically shouting. "I've already said I don't know you! How long are you gonna keep pretending you're my wife?

"I kicked you out this morning, and now you're stalking me at the hospital? Don't you have any shame?"

A few patients nearby started whispering.

"Wait, isn't that Dr. Carter? She's the mistress?"

"She looks so put-together—who'd have thought?"

Even though it was me they were trash-talking, Rainee played the part of the helpless victim, head down, clutching Nathan's arm like a lifeline. Her voice wavered as she mumbled, "Nathan, my stomach hurts. Can we just see the doctor?"

I stepped in front of them, blocking their path. My tone? Ice-cold. "Nathan, maybe it's time you take a good look at the name on that brain cancer report."

Nathan froze, eyes bloodshot, and shot me a glare. "Liana Carter! What does your cancer have to do with me?"

Clara had had it. She jabbed a finger in his direction. "Didn't you say you had amnesia? How come you suddenly remember Dr. Carter's name? Care to explain that?"

Nathan's smug facade cracked. His face twitched as he stammered, "It's... it's selective amnesia!"

I laughed, sharp and deliberate, flipping the report open and pointing straight to the name at the top. "Then I'm guessing you haven't forgotten your own name, have you, Nathan?"

He snatched the report out of my hands, his eyes locking onto the name. His face went ghost-white, pupils blown wide, and his body swayed like he might collapse. "No... no, this can't be real! It's fake! You forged it! You Photoshopped it! You're the one with cancer!"

I folded my arms and shot him a look. "It's always been you, Nathan Hale."