When I got the news about my brain tumor, my Oscar-winning husband, William Brown, was off enjoying a romantic getaway with the rising starlet, Grace Anderson. The tumor was pressing on my nervous system, gradually robbing me of my memories of the person I loved most.

William thought I'd completely forget my past love and was eager to reconcile. But when he reached for a hug, I stepped back, coldly asking, "Who are you?"

To my surprise, his face lit up, and he eagerly announced our relationship to the world. Just a few months later, I was gone. And he lost it--though it was my deception that shattered him.

——

I vividly remember the day I got my diagnosis; my phone buzzed with a trending headline: [Oscar-winning actor William Brown and rising star Grace Anderson spotted on a romantic island getaway]. I couldn't help but give it a thumbs up and send William a photo of my pathology report.

His call came through quickly--so fast that the painkillers hadn't even kicked in yet. "Jane Thompson, you've really gone to great lengths to divorce me," he said, irritation lacing his voice. Honestly, he rarely spoke to me kindly.

"The doctor said I probably won't make it past next year," I replied flatly.

"You don't need to act so convincing. Grace and I will be back in two days," he shot back dismissively.

I sighed. He actually thought I was jealous. "I hope you and Ms. Anderson have a wonderful time," I said before hanging up and signing the divorce papers.

If I wanted to live past next year, I needed to cooperate with treatment, but I didn't want to fight anymore. I just wanted to see Michael Davis. He would definitely call me a fool.

I had married William to help pay for Michael's medical bills. What was worse was that I'd once dreamed of a future with this jerk. Blood dripped from my nose as I wrestled with the pain, wiping the mess from the floor.

Grace had added me using a fake account, sending me updates on every detail of her romance with William. Their island trip mirrored all the places William and I had once cherished together.

Seeing the photo of them kissing by the mermaid fountain stirred something deep inside me. She looked strikingly similar to how I used to.

William clearly didn't remember proposing to me under that very mermaid sculpture when I was 23. Now, just three years later, he had replaced me with the younger Grace. Among all the new actors, she was the one he'd chosen to co-star with.

Grace was climbing the social ladder on the back of his fame, and slowly, she developed feelings that were completely inappropriate. Using these details to rub salt in my wounds was her way of trying to take my place as William's wife.

I'd explained countless times that it was William who didn't want a divorce. But to Grace, I was just the liar in this twisted story.

When I heard the door lock click, I quickly stepped out of the bedroom and shut the door behind me. William kicked a suitcase in the entryway, and it bumped right into my knee.

I stifled the pain and tried to sound calm. "Why are you back so early?"

William leaned against the doorframe with a snort. "How was I supposed to know you were leaving if I didn't come back early?"

Grace snaked her arm around his, looking far too comfortable. "Jane, William just wanted to come home early to celebrate your birthday with you." She proudly held up a beautifully decorated cake as if it were a trophy.

I squeezed my eyes shut in frustration. "Didn't I tell you not to bring other women home?"

William's expression darkened further. "Home? You still think of this as home?"

Grace looked up at him, feigning innocence. "If Jane doesn't want me here, I'll just leave."

William tightened his grip on her wrist and switched to a softer tone. "No need; the cake is for you. We can share it."

I took a deep breath, my fists tightening with each passing moment. William, who had a cleanliness obsession, let Grace wear his slippers while he stood barefoot, completely at ease in this twisted scenario.

"Jane, can you give me a hand?" Grace bent down to untie her shoelaces and handed the cake to me.

I instinctively reached for it, but my fingers met empty air, and the cake crashed to the floor.

Looking up at me with tears in her eyes, Grace said, "I know you're not a fan of mine, but it's William's birthday."

The commotion caught William's attention. He stormed back into the room, pushing me down to the floor. "You can't even handle a simple task? Where do you think you're going after leaving me?"

Since secretly marrying William, I had lost my job, my social life, and even my freedom. Who would have thought that the wife of a multimillionaire Oscar winner like him would barely have a few thousand dollars in her bank account?

I landed in a puddle of frosting, my face drained of color. My vision blurred as I carefully felt my way around, slowly pushing myself back up.

In the dim light, I saw him hoist Grace into his arms, grinning at me in a way that sent shivers down my spine. Congratulations to her; she was one step closer to marrying William.

William walked into the messy bedroom and saw me cleaning up the cake debris. "Are you looking for the music box?" he asked.

I froze, my heart racing as I stared at him, my breath caught in my throat.

"You took it," he accused, gripping my shoulders tightly and looking down at me. "Michael gave you that piece of junk, and you treat it like it's gold. I gave you diamond jewelry, and you tossed it aside!"

I fought to break free from his grip, keeping my gaze on the floor as I mopped. "That's his keepsake. It's not the same."

William seemed irritated by my words, leaning in closer to whisper, "Do you want that music box?"

I took a step back, my expression blank. "What do you want from me?"

William glanced at Grace, a twisted smile creeping across his face. "When she and I are together later, you'll just watch, okay?"

I raised my hand, wanting to slap that smug face, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Most of the things Michael had given me had already been destroyed or tossed aside by William. The music box was the last memory I had of him.

William dragged me to the bedroom door, casually unbuttoning his shirt.

Grace, hidden under a blanket, poked him in the side. "Jane's still here."

William leaned down to kiss her cheek, his voice low. "Doesn't this make it even more thrilling?"

I stood frozen, my eyes darting around the room. The ringing in my ears blurred the line between reality and a nightmare. I felt like I was falling into flames again.

Sadly, the Michael who had rushed in to save me was gone.

William roughly tore at Grace's dress, his mouth hungrily attacking hers in a fit of rage. His movements were aggressive and relentless, just as he had always been with me, now fully unleashed on Grace.

I leaned against the doorframe, but a wave of nausea hit me, and I couldn't hold back the vomit.

William noticed something was wrong and immediately pulled away from Grace.

He shook my light frame, demanding, "Are you pregnant?"

Grace sat up, her disheveled appearance making her look like she had just emerged from a freezer.

She and William always took precautions, even going so far as to have her swallow birth control pills right in front of him for peace of mind. She knew their relationship was built on mutual benefit.

But William's indulgence had only fueled her desires. She wanted to be William's wife and craved all of his love for herself.

I threw up all over the place, gritting my teeth as I pushed his hand away. "I'm not pregnant. Just give me back the music box when the time comes."

William's expression darkened, his chest rising and falling with barely contained anger--whether it was from his lingering desires or his frustration with me, I couldn't tell.

Without saying a word, he pulled me to my feet, his gaze narrowing. "We're going to the hospital. You're not getting rid of this baby without me knowing."

I stumbled, collapsing onto the couch. In a fit of rage, I flung my medical report at him, and a drop of blood appeared on his cheek.

I crouched down, tears of frustration spilling from my eyes. "I'm sick, William."

He knocked the painkillers out of my hands and, almost frenzied, lifted me off the couch, carrying me outside. Feeling his uncontrollable shaking, I numbly leaned against his chest.

In a daze, I heard him muttering to himself, "You can't take those abortion pills."

I noticed the scattered pills underfoot, crushed into bits by his heavy steps. Despair washed over me as I shut my eyes, tears soaking my collar.

What he didn't know was that I was already infertile. The vomiting was just a symptom of my brain tumor.

At the hospital, a determined William dragged me out of the car. My legs felt weak, and everything around me blurred, the sounds fading into a distant hum.

After a few shaky steps, William stopped to ask a nurse where the OB/GYN was located. My head throbbed painfully, and I instinctively leaned against the wall.

As I hung my head, blood began to stream from my nose.

The gleaming white tiles quickly turned red, blooming like flowers.

The nurse was quick to catch me, shouting to her colleague, "We need to take her to the emergency room!"

William, unused to being dismissed, frowned. "We need to go to OB/GYN."

The nurse, incredulous, shot back, "Can't you see how bad she looks? This isn't the time!"

I was hoisted onto a stretcher, the bile I had vomited trailing behind me.

William silently followed the medical staff, and only when I lay unconscious on the hospital bed did he realize I had been telling the truth.

Advanced-stage malignant brain tumor. Surgery and chemotherapy wouldn't save me.

After settling the bills, he wandered into the hospital stairwell and, for the first time in ages, smoked several cigarettes.

Behind the smoke, his eyes were hollow, and his expression was distant.

He hated me, yet he wanted to be tied to me for life. Maybe, one day, when we were old and gray, we could bury the hatchet and rest in the same grave.

He knew I hated him deeply. But where there was love, there was also hate. I loved him, which is why I hated him.