After Zachary Harding tore up our marriage certificate for the eighth time over his secretary,

I didn't go with him to get a new one.

I posted the chat logs between him and that secretary online instead.

Then I turned around and checked myself into the cancer center.

Zachary came rushing to the hospital, my stomach cancer diagnosis crushed in his fist.

"If you die, I'll die with you."

I took it for a joke.

But afterward, he truly never left my side.

He even sold the company, dragging out a three-month prognosis into three whole years.

The day I learned there was nothing more to be done,

I went to tell him to let me go.

Instead I overheard him talking with a buddy of his:

"Mr. Harding, there's clearly a doctor who could treat your wife's illness. Why have you turned him down eight times in a row?

"She survives on the daily biopsies, sure, but it's agony for her."

Zachary sneered.

"Agony is exactly the point. How else do I make up for the three years of online abuse Sabina went through?

"Sabina has depression. Those few chat screenshots nearly drove her to kill herself.

"And Naomi Joyce, with nothing but a few minor ailments, faked stomach cancer to push Sabina toward death. If that's how she wants to play it, then let her find out what it means to live a fate worse than death."

His buddy nodded.

"True. Sabina's had no one to love or care for her since she was little. Naomi has everything, and still she has to compete with Sabina.

"All because Mr. Harding tore up a piece of paper, and she dragged Sabina's name through the mud across the whole internet.

"It's not like it couldn't be reissued. I really don't know what she was being so dramatic about."

Zachary laughed.

"If she were really sick, I'd gladly die alongside her.

"But using a fake to try and control me? I'm not that easily fooled."

I stood outside the door.

The corner of my mouth curved.

Zachary.

You'd better mean what you say.

...

I didn't let Zachary know I was there.

I turned and went back to the hospital.

I signed my discharge papers.

The young nurse who'd cared for me all this time walked me out, her eyes red.

"Naomi, Mr. Harding sold the marital home. Where are you going to stay?"

I gave a faint smile.

"Probably the marital home, I'd say."

The young nurse froze.

I patted her head.

"These three years. Thank you."

Standing at the door of the marital home,

I gripped the old key tight in my hand.

This was the house Zachary had sold two years ago to pay for my treatment.

By now the locks should have been changed long ago.

And yet I had a feeling.

The door would open.

I slid the key in.

Sure enough.

The door opened.

The layout of the marital home was exactly as it had been.

Spotless.

Which meant someone had been living here these past two years.

On the shoe cabinet at the entryway sat two pairs of matching bunny couple slippers.

Custom-printed with the names of the man and woman of the house.

Sabina's wifey. Zach hubby.

Cutesy little pet names. One look and I knew Sabina Fox had them made.

I paced through the living room.

Every trace of me had long since been erased from this place.

The water glass, pink.

The bedsheets, pink.

Even Zachary's desk.

Draped with a pink tablecloth.

Zachary hated pink more than anything.

Sure enough.

Zachary had never sold the marital home.

He just didn't want me coming back.

Intruding on the love nest he shared with another woman.

On the storage rack sat the baseball bat he used for playing.

I picked it up.

And with every ounce of strength in my body,

I swung it hard into the glass display cabinet in front of me.

The whole collection of designer figures Sabina had hoarded shattered across the floor.

The pink water glass.

The pink desk.

Every pink thing.

The glass cut open my arm.

This dying body had reached its limit.

I braced myself on the bat, gasping for breath.

"Naomi Joyce!"

The door swung open.

Zachary stared at the wreckage covering the floor.

His pupils shrank to pinpoints.

"What are you doing?!"

In his hand was a pink bunny cake.

The mango on top had been carved into an adorable little cat's face.

One look told me it wasn't for me.

I'm allergic to mango.

And Sabina Fox loved mango.

Loved anything sweet.

He seized the hand gripping the baseball bat.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

"I've lost my mind?"

Blood was beaded on my face.

I stared him down.

"You pretended to sell our marital home, when really you moved another woman in to wipe out every trace of me.

"Zachary, tell me, who's the one who's lost their mind?"

Zachary let out a scornful laugh.

"What, you're the only one allowed to fake an illness and con me, but I'm not allowed to trick you back?"

I frowned.

His smile turned even more cutting.

"If I didn't make a whole production of it, how could I ever do justice to Ms. Joyce's exquisite acting?"

"You think I've been faking?"

"It's not that I think so. Someone already showed me your real diagnosis. Nothing but a touch of gastritis. Some medicine and you'd be fine."

"Who gave that to you?"

"Sis?"

A startled cry came from the doorway.

Sabina clapped a hand over her mouth. "You... you were discharged?"

She stepped forward and threw her arms around Zachary's, her eyes going red in an instant. "Sis, don't misunderstand. For three whole years you never came home, so I was just helping you look after Mr. Harding.

"After all, I'm his secretary. I understand what he likes better than anyone.

"I thought you'd be back soon. I never imagined..."

She glanced at me. "Sis, I can't believe you'd lie in a hospital for three whole years just to force my hand...

"If I hadn't discovered you were deceiving Mr. Harding, who knows how badly he might have fallen apart.

"And now, instead of reflecting on what you've done wrong, you come here and start smashing things. Sis, you've really gone too... ah!"

Slap!

My hand cracked across her face without a moment's hesitation.

The next second.

A tremendous force shoved me hard to the floor.

Zachary planted himself in front of her, shielding her with his body. "Enough, Naomi! When did you turn into such a vicious shrew?!

"First you faked an illness to deceive me, and now you're raising a hand against someone innocent!

"Look at yourself. Is there anything left of the person you used to be?!"

I lifted my head, unable to believe it.

Zachary's breathing came fast.

The corners of his eyes were rimmed red.

As if I really were the one who'd changed first in this marriage.

A laugh burst out of me.

"You're accusing me?"

Zachary went still.

"Zachary, what right do you have to accuse me!

"The one who changed beyond recognition first was you, not me!"

That boy who once ran with me through the open fields.

The teenager who used to knock on my head before the SATs and call me a slacker.

The man who swore at our college graduation that he'd marry me.

He was the one who'd turned into a stranger first.

He started ignoring how I felt.

Started pushing the girl he'd funded up the ranks, promoting her past everyone into the secretary's seat right beside him.

And when that girl cried,

he tore up our marriage certificate without a second thought.

My fists clenched tight. "Zachary, you're the one who changed, not me."

His throat bobbed. "But I never once used a terminal illness to lie to you."

"Lie to you?"

I laughed.

I laughed until the tears came. "Why on earth would you think I was lying to you?!"

"Sabina said, you..."

"Sabina said. Sabina said..."

I shoved him away and pointed at Sabina. "You'll always believe her. You've never once believed me!"

"Whatever she says, you believe it.

"Even if I laid the diagnosis right in front of you, you'd still say I was faking, playing sick!"

"Naomi, I…"

"Enough, Zachary."

I cut him off.

"You make me sick.

"I never should have married you."

Zachary's breath caught.

He grabbed hold of me just as I turned to leave.

His eyes went red.

"If I've turned into this, it's because you were the one in the wrong first!"

I froze.

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Naomi, if you hadn't betrayed me first, why would I ever treat you this way?"

"What did you say?"

Zachary sneered.

"However disgusting I may be, at least I've never crawled into bed with my own boss."

"Crack!"

My palm landed hard across Zachary's face.

Sabina cried out and threw herself in front of him.

"Naomi, that's going too far!

"Is Mr. Harding wrong, though? Back then you were caught in bed with your boss. Sure, you sent him to prison afterward, but who's to say the price just wasn't right, so you turned on him and bit back!

"Mr. Harding is a man too. Isn't it perfectly natural for him to doubt you?

"If you'd only kept yourself decent, why would Mr. Harding ever distrust you!"

"You—!"

My hand flew up again.

Zachary caught my wrist.

He tucked Sabina safely behind him.

And looked at me with a cold sneer.

"What, hit a nerve? Ashamed enough to lash out?"

My fist clenched tight.

I glared at him through gritted teeth.

"Zachary, you've been doubting me this whole time…"

The day my boss dragged me into that bed.

It was the day before I was to marry Zachary.

That day Zachary hit him a dozen times.

He held me tight against his chest.

"Don't be afraid. I'll get you justice.

"I'll make whoever hurt you pay!"

In the courtroom, he argued the case point by point with the judge.

He stood beside me and helped put that boss behind bars.

He took me and moved us to another city.

The whole thing was sealed away, and no one ever brought it up again.

I looked at Zachary, my eyes rimmed red.

"You even told your secretary something that private."

Zachary frowned.

"Sabina isn't an outsider. She was on your and my support, after all."

I laughed.

"So that's why you believe everything she says?"

Zachary frowned and said nothing.

"And what if I really do have stomach cancer?"

"If you really do.

"If you die, I'll die with you."

The hand gripping my wrist trembled faintly.

I pushed him away.

"Zachary, you'd better mean what you say!"

Then I turned.

And slammed the door hard behind me.

On reflex, Zachary covered the ears of the woman in his arms.

I let out a cold sneer.

I didn't look back.

I stood on the empty street.

A dull ache pulsed through my chest, wave after wave.

I touched the front of my chest.

The protective charm my mother gave me.

It was gone.

I turned back at once.

I opened the door with that same old key.

I'd been gone only a few hours.

Everything in the house had already been redone, good as new.

Every piece of furniture that had been smashed had, in the span of a few short hours, been replaced with brand-new pink ones.

Compared to before.

The whole house looked, if anything, more full of life.

Even the floors had been wiped spotless.

As if no third person had ever set foot here.

I stepped across the floor.

Frantically searching for the protective charm my mother left me.

It was from the day I was diagnosed with cancer.