Dying While You Loved Her

I was alone in the hospital when the doctor told me I was dying.

“Lesley, your bone marrow treatment isn’t working anymore. Transfusions can only buy you time. You need a transplant soon, or your body’s going to shut down.”

I nodded like I understood. Like I was still here but I wasn’t.

My hands were shaking when I grabbed my phone and called Fredrinn. My husband. Five years. Mafia king, everyone’s nightmare. Supposedly mine too, just in a different way.

It rang.

Again.

Again.

Then it stopped. I called back but it sraight to nothing.

My chest felt tight, like someone was sitting on it. I stared at my screen, waiting. Hoping. Like an idiot.

Instead, Instagram popped up.

A post.

From her.

My twin.

My fraternal twin sister. Same blood, different soul. The one who left, who always said she was meant for bigger things, prettier things. The one who never hid how much she hated that I had him first.

She was smiling in the photo. All soft and sweet while her hand tangled with a man’s fingers.

I knew that hand.

I knew that watch. I'm the one who bought it for him.

Fredrinn’s.

My stomach dropped but the caption made me feel sick.

“The man I’ve loved in secret is finally mine. Even if this is just a dream, I hope it never ends.”

My thumb slipped.

I liked it.

I didn’t even realize I was crying.

Less than a minute later, my phone started blowing up. His name flashing over and over like it was screaming at me.

I answered.

“Lesley, don’t hang up,” he said fast, rough. “Please. Just listen.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I know what you saw,” he kept going. “It’s not what you think. I swear. She said she’d be your donor. Bone marrow. She said she’d do it. But only if I gave her a chance. One month, I will act as her husband. Just one. I didn’t touch her. I didn’t cross the line. I only did it for you. Everything I did was for you.”

My throat hurt when I tried to talk. “Fredrinn… is that true?”

“Yes,” he said too fast. Then quieter. “You’re my wife. You’re my life. You know that. I can’t lose you. I won’t live through it.”

I laughed, but it came out broken. “Then why does it feel like you didn’t hate saying yes?”

He didn’t answer. I could hear him breathing.

That was worse.

I remembered things I didn’t want to remember. Him driving across the city at three in the morning because I said my bones hurt and I couldn’t sleep. Him showing up with greasy dumplings and acting like it was nothing. Him buying me shoes I only mentioned once, like it was a joke. Him kneeling under those stupid fireworks on my birthday, holding a ring with shaking hands.

“Marry me after you graduate,” he said back then. “I want forever with you.”

Everyone believed him.

Fredrinn Ashcroft. Mafia boss. Cold to the world. Soft only for me.

And when I got diagnosed six months ago, he didn’t let go of my hand. Not once. He cried like he was the one dying.

“If you quit, I quit,” he said. “Don’t leave me.”

He searched everywhere after that. Doctors. Black market contacts. Underground hospitals. He even tried to give his own blood, knowing damn well it wouldn’t work. I caught him writing a will once. He didn’t hide it. He wasn’t scared.

And yes, he paid her.

One hundred million.

I saw the transfer. Clean. Immediate. Mafia money moves fast. Money for her fashion dreams. For her freedom. For her loyalty.

But money wasn’t enough. She wanted him too.

And the worst part? He gave her that. Even if he keeps saying it was for me.

For the fourth time in six months, my twin backed out again.

There was always a reason. Always some new problem. And every single time, Fredrinn stayed glued to her side like she was the one dying.

The first time, she fainted. Said her blood sugar dropped. Fredrinn slept at her hospital for three nights straight. He didn’t come home. He didn’t even bother to text me goodnight.

The second time, she said she couldn’t sleep. Anxiety. Nightmares. Fredrinn sat through her therapy sessions like a loyal husband, holding her hand until morning.

The third time, she suddenly had a fever. That same day, I collapsed during treatment. Nurses were calling his name. He still left. Went straight to her place to take care of her.

And now she wanted something new.

She told him she’d finally donate her bone marrow if he agreed to be her husband for one month.

Just one month.

I was lying on my hospital bed when he told me. My hands were shaking so bad I had to grip the blanket to stop them.

“Fredrinn,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. It still came out weak. “Give her more money. I don’t care how much. Just pay her. Please. Don’t be her boyfriend. Just tell her to do it now.”

Silence.

I could hear him breathing on the other end. Slow. Careful.

Then he said quietly, “Lesley… we already owe her a lot. I don’t want to pressure her. She’s helping you. We should be grateful.”

Something snapped in my chest. “Owe her? One hundred million isn’t enough? Or is there something else you owe her?”

He didn’t answer. Then I heard her voice behind him. Soft. Sweet. Fake as hell.

“Fredrinn, I burned my hand! Ow!" she said, dragging the words. “It hurts. Come here! Please!"

His tone changed instantly. “I’ll call you later,” he said fast. “She needs me.”

Then the call ended.

Just like that.

I stared at my phone until it went black. It felt like something inside me finally caved in. Like I’d been hollowed out and there was nothing left to protect.

I turned my head and looked at the doctor.

“How long,” I asked, barely louder than air, “if I don’t get the transplant?”

He sighed. Didn’t even try to sugarcoat it.

“A month. Maybe less. Your body’s getting weaker every day. If the transplant happens soon, there’s a chance. If not—”

“I know,” I said, cutting him off. “It’s fine.”

I looked away.

“I won’t have it.”

I knew my twin too well. She wasn’t going to save me. She was dragging it out on purpose. Every delay meant more time with him. And I was done begging. Done waiting. Done fighting alone.

That evening, I went back to the house.

The sky was gold and orange, quiet and soft, like the world was being kind to me for once. I almost thought maybe this was mercy. Like God giving me one last calm moment before everything ended.

Then I opened the door.

And whatever was left of me broke.