Everyone thought I felt nothing for Wayne Henson.

For three years of marriage, he'd declared his love ninety-nine times, loud enough for the whole world to hear.

I never answered. Not once.

On the hundredth day of our marriage, Wayne didn't come.

He sent someone with a letter instead.

I sat stiff in the dining room chair, hands shaking as I tore the envelope open.

A single line on that wide sheet of paper:

【Lacey Abbott, I'm tired. Let's get a divorce!】

I crushed the paper in my fist.

Over and over, I traced those two words. Divorce.

And I broke.

He didn't know that for every one of his ninety-nine confessions, I had answered him ninety-nine times.

He didn't know that those answers, and the love I never let past my lips, were all buried under one piece of paper.

A terminal diagnosis.

……

When I left the restaurant, the sky had opened into a downpour.

I stood under the entrance awning.

Fat raindrops hammered the ground, and the spray soaked the hem of my dress.

My heart clenched, beyond my control.

Three years ago, on another night like this, the rain had come down in sheets, and I'd huddled soaked and pitiful in an alley.

Wayne walked toward me out of the rain, an umbrella over his head.

The rain drummed against it, a steady knocking.

He crouched down, his eyes burning into mine.

His voice came level, neither soft nor sharp.

"Lacey. Do you dare marry me?"

I turned my head and looked at him.

The truth was, I wasn't good enough for him.

But in that moment, the rain seemed to drown out every sensible thought I had.

I answered fast, as if afraid he'd take it back.

"I dare!"

And so I rose overnight into a different life. The luckiest girl alive, people called me, with no small amount of envy.

But only Wayne and I knew the truth.

That kind of luck was two people running toward each other after ten years of loving in secret.

We were supposed to stay happy. Forever.

But in the second month of our marriage,

they found a pancreatic neuroendocrine tumor inside me.

A cancer with no symptoms. The kind that can take you at any moment.

From that day on, I didn't dare answer Wayne's love again.

I was terrified he'd be brimming with joy one second and lose me the next.

So I went cold. I pulled away. I kept my distance and didn't let him near.

Until he believed I'd stopped loving him.

And he only loved me louder.

As if he wanted every person on earth to know how much he loved me.

The louder he got, the more afraid I became.

So many times I nearly told him the truth.

But I was afraid of turning one person's torment into two people's pain.

So I just kept holding on. Day after day.

Until finally……

Clutching the letter where Wayne had written that word, divorce,

I let the pouring rain cover the sound, and I broke down crying again.

"Wayne! I'm sorry!"

By the time I got home, the rain had stopped.

But I was soaked through.

I stood barefoot in the entryway.

Water dripped off me, one drop after another, onto the floor.

Wayne looked up, his brows drawing together.

His voice carried the same scolding edge he always used with me.

"A grown woman, and you don't know to take cover when it rains?"

My nose stung. I turned my face away and forced the tears back down.

My voice came out muffled. "Couldn't get a cab."

Wayne shot up off the couch,

snatched the towel from the armrest,

crossed the room in two strides, and draped it over my head.

He raised his hand to dry my hair, the way he always had.

Then something stopped him, and his hand went rigid before he pulled it back.

"That letter…… did you read it?"

I scrubbed the towel hard against my soaked hair, as if rubbing hard enough could keep my heart from breaking.

"Mm."

Wayne's face went stiff, his voice trembling faintly.

"You agree?"

I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood filling my mouth, and only then did I nod, slowly.

"I agree."

A small, bitter laugh escaped him.

He crossed to the coffee table in two strides and snatched up the divorce papers he'd already prepared, then came storming back toward me, though his voice softened the moment he reached me, without his meaning it to.

"If you agree, then sign."

"The house, the car, the money. I've set it all aside for you."

"It's enough to keep you comfortable for the rest of your life."

"If you want to work, take a project manager position at one of the subsidiaries."

"I've already put in a word. You can start whenever you like."

His voice broke off, choking, and his hand tightened around the papers.

"And there's also..."

A cramp seized my abdomen, and my whole body shook beyond my control.

The doctor's warning came back to me.

"Once you feel sharp abdominal pain, it means the tumor is no longer under control."

"After that, you'll waste away the way other cancer patients do. It will be agony."

"And there will be no hiding that you're sick..."

I looked at Wayne in a rush of panic and snatched the papers out of his hand. Gritting my teeth, I signed my name on the last page, then shoved the papers back at him.

"Is this enough?"

Wayne stared at me, stunned, his eyes going red in an instant.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but not a single word came out.

Another cramp tore through my belly. I pressed my purse over my abdomen and walked toward the bedroom on bare feet.

The instant I pushed the door open, Wayne caught me from behind. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his voice ragged with sobs.

"Lacey, was there something I didn't do well enough?"

"Why did you suddenly stop loving me?"

"It took us so long to finally be together."

"You promised you'd love me your whole life!"

"How did we end up here?"

"I was wrong — let's not do this, please?"

"I'll be twice as good to you from now on. I'm begging you, don't leave me!"

My body shook and I couldn't stop it, the tears falling no matter how I fought them.

Just the divorce alone was already more than he could bear.

What if I died in front of him?

I didn't dare imagine how unbearable his days would be after I was gone.

If there had to be pain, then better that he hate me.

I clenched my fists and bit open the cut on my lip again.

"I never loved you!"

"I was with you for the money."

"I just never expected you to be so devoted."

"Devoted enough to cling to me every single day."

"I'm sick of every day spent with you."

"If you really love me, then stop clinging to me."

"Let's part on good terms."

When I finished, I pried Wayne's hands off me by force. I ran into the bedroom like I was fleeing, and locked the door.

I curled up against it in pain, tipping the whole purse upside down on the floor with shaking hands.

Among all the "vitamin" bottles, I found the new one the doctor had prescribed.

But I couldn't get the cap off.

Again and again.

No matter how hard I twisted, the cap wouldn't give.

I hurled the bottle to the floor,

I clamped both hands over my mouth and the sob broke through anyway.

Why?

Why, when I'd finally caught hold of happiness?

Why was heaven so cruel that it made me push Wayne away with my own hands?

The tears slid through my fingers and struck the floor.

Slowly, my reason came back to me.

I forced the tears away and scrambled, wretched, to gather the pill bottle off the floor.

A knock came at the door.

Then his voice, low and rough, fighting to stay steady.

"Lacey, the house is yours. I'm leaving it to you."

"I'm setting the keys in the entryway."

"If anything ever comes up, you can still call me..."

"We can still be friends. Right?"

The bottle trembled in my hand.

My mouth opened, but not a single word came out.

A long while passed before his footsteps moved off, growing fainter, and the front door clicked softly shut.

Then the feeling I'd held down broke loose all at once.

I dropped to the floor and wept until my voice gave out.

He was the one I'd wounded, and still he was thinking of me.

When I was little, my father came home drunk and he and my mother would fight. When it got bad, they smashed things. I'd be sleeping soundly and the crash of breaking things would jolt me awake. My father came home later and later, and the fights turned uglier. Every time their shouting woke me, my heart would skip and stutter while I curled into a corner and shook. Over time, that kind of noise became a trigger. Even after I grew up, a sudden loud sound could send me cowering in a corner, trembling.

Wayne knew loud sounds frightened me.

So he muffled everything in our home as much as he could.

Every door was padded.

Thick carpet covered every floor.

Even our dishes were plastic.

I'd weighed the flimsy things in my hand and teased him.

"This is too much. I'm not that fragile."

He only pulled me close, gentle.

"Lacey, everything I give you has to be the best."

"I want you to feel that marrying me was the most right decision you ever made in your life."

The most right decision I ever made in my life

was saying yes to Wayne on that rainy night.

But we were never meant to last.

There would be no more after this.

I gave a bitter smile and pushed myself up.

The bottle that wouldn't open suddenly gave.

I pressed the pill onto my tongue,

and the bitterness spread in an instant.

A cramp seized my stomach, and the taste of blood rose up my throat.

My hand flew up and clamped over my mouth.

But the blood spilled out between my fingers anyway, beyond stopping.

I stared at the blood dripping onto the floor, and the world went black.

My whole body folded and hit the ground.

I dragged my hand toward the phone.

I could not die here, in the home Wayne and I had made.

With shaking fingers I called my doctor.

"I think I'm dying..."

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed.

Dr. Spencer Dawson stood over me, his face like a storm.

"You didn't follow a single instruction!"

"I told you to take your medicine properly. Did you?"

Weakly, I let my eyes fall shut.

I shook my head without a trace of shame. "No."

That made him angrier. "If you won't take your medicine, how do you expect to—"

"If I take my medicine properly, will I not die?"

His expression shifted, and he let out a sigh.

He tucked the blanket in around me.

"You need to be admitted. No more running off."