I was dying of brain cancer.

Before it takes me completely, I brought my daughter out to celebrate her seventh birthday.

I planned everything myself. No assistants. No secretaries. Just me.

In the morning, Nana and I brought wrapped toys to the children’s wing. Plush dolphins. Coloring sets. Mermaid dolls with glittery tails. She handed each one over like it mattered. I watched her kneel beside hospital beds. Seven years old and already kinder than the world deserved.

At night, I told her we had one more stop. A charity gala. A place where people with too much money pretended they had hearts.

As the wife of Gusion Colombo, one of the richest men in the country, doors opened easily. Valets bowed. Cameras flashed. Volunteers thanked me like I was still someone of value.

No one knew I was dying.

Stage four brain cancer does not announce itself. It steals quietly. My balance. My words. My memories. Some mornings, I forgot Nana’s birthmark behind her ear and cried in the bathroom until it came back to me.

I never told Gusion.

He hated weakness.

“Stop throwing money at doctors,” he said once, eyes never leaving his phone. “You’re fine! You just like attention.”

I smiled then. Like a good wife.

That night, the hospital ballroom was washed in white light. Glass chandeliers. Ivory tablecloths. A banner across the stage read:

**FOR THE CHILDREN. FOR THE FUTURE.**

Nana squeezed my hand. “Mommy, why are there so many sad kids here?”

“Because they’re brave,” I said. My head throbbed. My vision swam. “Just like you.”

She beamed.

Then she froze.

Her fingers dug into my palm.

“Mommy,” she whispered. “Daddy’s here.”

My stomach dropped.

He told me he had meetings. He told Nana he would call later. He said he was too busy saving the world.

I followed her gaze.

Gusion stood on stage, tall and immaculate in a tailored suit, a microphone in his hand. The crowd applauded as he spoke about compassion. About family. About hope.

Hope.

He talked about children fighting for their lives. About standing by the people you love. About choosing courage when things get hard.

Each word landed like a slap.

Then he smiled.

The smile I hadn’t seen in years.

“Tonight,” he said, voice warm, practiced, “this cause means even more to me. Because love is also about choosing someone. Publicly. Fearlessly.”

My ears rang.

A velvet box appeared in his hand.

Gasps rippled through the room.

Hanabi stepped onto the stage.

My parents’ adopted daughter. The girl who called me big sister. The one who cried in my arms when men hurt her. The one who said, Brother-in-law is family. Don’t be weird.

She wore white.

Of course she did.

Gusion dropped to one knee.

Right there. In a hospital filled with dying children. In front of donors and doctors and cameras. In front of my daughter.

“Will you marry me?” he asked softly. “Please say yes, baby.”

Hanabi covered her mouth, tears spilling. She nodded again and again. “Yes. Yes, I will. I love you.”

Applause thundered.

My parents stood. Clapped. Smiled.

Phones lifted. Videos recorded. A proposal turned into a headline.

The ring slid onto her finger. A diamond so large it caught the lights and fractured them into something blinding.

Something inside my chest split open and never closed.

Nana tugged my dress, bouncing. “Mommy, Daddy is proposing! Auntie Hanabi is going to be a princess!” She looked up at me, confused. “Is it her birthday too?”

I couldn’t answer.

My lungs refused to work. My vision tunneled. The room tilted like I was about to collapse right there on hospital marble.

Then my mother saw me.

Her clapping slowed. Her smile faltered.

One by one, faces turned.

Whispers crawled across the ballroom.

I stood there holding a child’s hand, surrounded by sick children and false saints, while my husband pledged forever to another woman under a banner about the future.

Gusion finally turned.

Our eyes met.

There was no panic. No guilt. No shame.

Just that familiar irritation. Like I was a stain on a perfect picture. Like I had chosen the worst possible moment to exist.

Hanabi noticed me then.

Instead of shame, she looked… annoyed. Like I’d interrupted her moment.

Gusion let out a long breath and crossed his arms. “Miya,” he said calmly, “can we not do this here?”

My hands were shaking. “Do what?” I asked, “What exactly am I doing wrong right now?”

He sighed again, louder this time. “Please don’t turn this into a whole thing. Nana’s here. People are watching.”

“A whole thing?” I laughed, but it came out wrong. Broken. “You proposed to her. In front of my family. On my child’s birthday!"

He rubbed his forehead like I was giving him a headache. “You’re overreacting. You always do this. Everything becomes dramatic with you.”

Something inside me cracked.

I didn’t even remember lifting my hand.

The sound of the slap echoed across the plaza. Sharp. Loud. Final.

For a second, everything stopped.

My palm burned, but it didn’t matter. The pain inside my chest was worse. Much worse.

Gusion turned his head slowly, jaw tight. When he looked back at me, there was still no regret. Just irritation.

“Wow,” he said flatly. “Did that make you feel better? Was that really necessary?”

I stared at him, stunned. I felt like I was drowning in plain sight.

Around us, people gasped. My mother’s mouth fell open. My father’s face darkened, not at Gusion, but at me.

“Miya,” my father said sharply, his voice carrying that familiar authority he used in boardrooms and press conferences. “Enough. Don’t embarrass the family!"

Embarrass the family.

Not him.

Not her.

Me.

I laughed again, but tears were already blurring my vision. “So you all knew,” I said quietly. “All of you knew.”

My mother stepped forward, smoothing her expensive coat like she was calming herself, not me. “Miya, sweetheart… you and Gusion haven’t been close for a long time. We thought this was the healthiest outcome.”

“The healthiest outcome?” My voice cracked. “You mean lying to me? Letting her sleep with my husband? Standing here clapping while he replaces me?”

Gusion cut in, clearly tired. “Miya, stop. This isn’t helping anyone. You’re exhausting yourself.”

Exhausting.

I wanted to scream.

“This is my daughter’s birthday,” I said, louder now. “You didn’t even call her this morning. You told me you were busy. And now you’re here proposing to my parents’ adopted daughter like I don’t exist.”

Hanabi stepped closer, eyes glossy, voice soft in that fake way she perfected. “Miya, please don’t look at me like that. I never meant for you to find out like this.”

She reached for my hand.

I pulled away instantly. “Don’t touch me.”

Her face hardened. “Why are you acting like this?” she snapped. “I didn’t steal him. You barely noticed him anymore. You were always tired, always sick, always gone. What was he supposed to do? Sit around and wait?”

My stomach twisted. “So this is my fault,” I whispered. “I get sick, and you climb into my marriage.”

She shrugged, eyes cold now. “I was there for him. I listened. I supported him. Someone had to.”

I laughed bitterly. “You mean you waited until I was weak.”

Gusion stepped between us. “Enough,” he said. “This conversation is going nowhere.”

“Nowhere?” I looked at him, really looked at him. “You lied to me. You humiliated me. You erased me. And you’re annoyed because I reacted?”

Hanabi lifted her hand then, the diamond catching the sun. “You should stop pretending this was ever going to last. He chose me.”

Before I could speak, my mother smiled.

“Miya,” she said gently, “Hanabi is pregnant.”

The world tilted.

“What?” My voice barely came out.

Hanabi placed a hand on her stomach, proud. Smiling. “Yes. It’s Gusion’s. I’m carrying his baby.”

I couldn’t breathe.

My husband.

Her child.

While I was alone in hospitals. While I was told I was dramatic. While I was slowly dying and no one cared.

My mother nodded, pleased. “This is what Gusion needs. A fresh start. A proper family.”

Then I felt a small tug on my sleeve.

I looked down.

Nana.

Her big eyes were filled with confusion and hope, the kind only a child can carry without knowing it hurts.

“I like Auntie Hanabi,” she said softly. “She’s nice to Daddy. If Daddy loves her… maybe it’s okay, Mommy. Maybe she can be my mommy too.”

That was it.

That was the moment I shattered.

Everything around me went out of focus.

Hanabi’s little smile, like she’d finally won something she’d been waiting for. Gusion’s face, calm and empty, like this was just another meeting he needed to get through. My parents standing there saying nothing, letting it happen. And Nana… my baby… looking up at me with that hopeful smile, not understanding that my heart was breaking right in front of her.

I knew if I stayed one more second, I would fall apart. Or scream. Or do something I couldn’t take back.

So I turned around.

I grabbed Nana’s hand, tight, like she was the only solid thing left in the world.

“Miya!” Gusion called after me. “Where are you going now?”

I didn’t answer.

I just walked.

My legs felt weak, like they might give out any second, but I kept moving. Nana’s small hand was warm in mine. She kept looking back, confused.

I didn’t stop.

...

The house felt dead when we got back.

Nana fell asleep almost the moment her head hit the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to her, even though she couldn’t hear me. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

I stayed there longer than I should have. Just watching her. Memorizing her face. Because everything else in my life had already been taken from me.

When I finally left her room, I didn’t walk. I collapsed onto my bed like my bones had given up. The sobs came hard and ugly, shaking my whole body until there was nothing left inside me.

Gusion Colombo.

Billionaire. Tech empire king. Investor everyone worshipped.

Gusion used to chase me like I was the only thing that mattered. When my family sent me to Paris for business, he booked a flight the same night.

“I can’t go a whole week without you,” he’d said, standing in the hotel lobby with flowers, smiling like he’d won something.

I laughed and called him crazy.

He pulled me close and said, “Yeah. Crazy about you.”

Back then, he was warm. Possessive. Proud to be mine.

We got married fast.

Our honeymoon was Sydney. A whole month of luxury and soft mornings and nights that felt endless. He promised me forever like it was a fact, not a lie. When Nana was born, he hovered over me like I might break.

“Don’t move,” he’d say. “I’ve got everything. Just rest. I love you more than anything.”

I believed him. God help me, I really did.

Then Hanabi came home.

She’d been overseas for years studying fashion. When she returned, she was polished. Beautiful. Confident. The kind of woman people looked at twice.

Gusion noticed.

I noticed him noticing.

The way she laughed too easily around him. The way he suddenly paid attention. The way conversations stopped when I walked into the room. I told myself I was imagining it. She was my sister. He was my husband.

I didn’t want to see it.

Until one night, I walked into our bedroom and found them in my bed.

Together.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Gusion?” My voice sounded small. Weak.

Hanabi jumped up, pulling the blanket around herself. Gusion didn’t even sit up properly.

“Relax,” he said, rubbing his face like I was annoying him. “She wasn’t feeling well. She fainted. I was just helping her.”

And I let it go.

Because Nana was sleeping nearby.

Because I was tired.

Because I didn’t want my world to end.

Now I knew how stupid that was.

They didn’t just betray me once. They’d been doing it for a long time.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, my chest tight. The worst part wasn’t even the affair. It was that I still loved him.

After everything, my heart still wanted him. Still missed the man he used to be. I hated myself for it.

Then my phone rang.

Mom.

I almost didn’t answer. But some weak, broken part of me still hoped. Still wanted my mother.

“Hello?” My voice cracked.

She sounded calm. Annoyed, even. “Are you still crying? For fucking sake, Miya, this is getting ridiculous.”

My breath hitched. “Mom… did you really just say that?”

She sighed like I was exhausting her. “Hanabi is younger than you! She maybe adopted but you should love her. She hasn’t had a happy life. She deserves to be loved too.”

“And me?” I whispered. “What about me?! I’m your daughter too. Don’t I deserve anything?”

There was a pause. Then my father took the phone.

“Miya,” he said firmly, “you need to think rationally. Hanabi is sick. She has cancer. The doctors said she might only have a year left.”

The words hit me hard.

“What…?” My hands started shaking.

“She’s dying,” he continued. “All she wanted was to marry the man she loves before it’s too late. Can you really be that heartless?”

Heartless. What about me? I am dying too.

“She loves my husband,” I said softly. “A-and you’re telling me I should be happy about that?”

“Yes,” my mother cut in. “At least she loves someone we know. Someone respectable. Not some random man. You should be grateful.”

Grateful. Wow.

My father added, “Gusion will be her husband now. For Nana’s sake, it’s best if you cooperate. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Something inside me broke clean in half. I screamed until I passed out.

I didn’t say another word.

I threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall and shattered before sliding down to the floor. Then I buried my face into the pillow and screamed until my throat burned and my body shook.

I woke up to a silence that felt wrong. My head was pounding, heavy and sharp at the same time.

Then I sat up.

Nana’s bed was empty.

My heart dropped straight into my stomach.

“Nana?” I called out, already standing, already panicking.

I ran down the hallway, checking her room again like she might magically appear. Bathroom. Living room. Kitchen.

“Nana!” My voice cracked.

Nothing.

My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped my phone when I called my mother.

She picked up after a few rings, sounding perfectly awake. Perfectly calm.

“Oh,” she said lightly. “You’re finally up.”

“Where is my daughter?” I asked. I was barely breathing. “Where’s Nana?”

“With us,” she replied like it was obvious. “It’s her birthday. Of course she’s with family.”

My knees almost gave out. “You took her? While I was asleep? Without telling me?!”

She sighed, long and dramatic. “Miya, you were exhausted. We didn’t want to wake you up in that state.”

“In that state?” My voice rose. “You had no right! She’s my child.”

“Hanabi and Gusion organized something special,” she continued, ignoring me. “A real party. Balloons, performers, hundred of kids. Not some pathetic dolphin show. Pff! She’s smiling so much. You should be grateful someone is finally doing this properly.”

My fingers dug into my palm. “Give me the phone. Let me talk to her. Right now.”

There was a pause. Then a soft laugh.

“Don’t ruin her mood, daughter,” my mother said. “She’s happy. For once. Don't be a killjoy like you always used to be."

“Killjoy?” I choked. “I am here real mother! Do you even hear yourself?”

“Miya,” she said slowly, like she was explaining something simple to a stupid person, “you need to stop clinging. Gusion has moved on. He love Hanabi and Hanabi will be a better influence. She’s calmer. Healthier. She has time.”

Something dark twisted in my chest. “You’re saying she’ll replace me.”

“I’m saying,” my mother replied coldly, “that maybe Nana deserves someone who isn’t always pretending to be sick, crying, or causing scenes.”

My vision went white.

“Bring my daughter home,” I said, shaking. “If you don’t—”

“Enough!" she snapped. “Stop being selfish.”

The line went dead.

I stood there staring at my phone, my whole body trembling. I felt small. Powerless. Like I had no right to my own child.

My thumb moved on its own.

I opened Instagram. And my heart shattered all over again.

The first post was Hanabi’s.

A clean, glossy photo. Her hand intertwined with Gusion’s. The engagement ring shining right in the center.

"Fate brought us together. Love made us brave. Counting down the days until I become Mrs. Colombo."

Thousands of likes.

Hundreds of comments.

“Finally! You two make so much more sense.”

“She looks way more suitable than his wife, sorry not sorry!”

“I always felt he married the wrong one.”

“True love wins in the end.”

People I knew. People who smiled at me. People who attended my wedding.

Then I scrolled.

Another photo loaded.

I stopped breathing.

Nana.

Sitting on Gusion’s lap. Laughing. Her arms wrapped around Hanabi’s neck. Hanabi kissing her cheek. Gusion smiling like this was his real family.

Like I never existed.

A sharp pain exploded behind my eyes. My head started spinning, the pounding unbearable. I fumbled for the painkillers on the nightstand, my hands clumsy and weak. I swallowed two without water.

It didn’t help.

My mouth filled with a metallic taste.

Something warm slid down my upper lip.

I wiped it without thinking.

Red.

Blood.

My chest tightened. My breathing went shallow and fast. I dialed my mother again.

No answer.

My father.

Nothing.

My hands shook as I scrolled down and pressed Gusion’s name. The call rang once. Twice. Then it went straight to voicemail.

I laughed, but it came out weak and ugly. Of course he wouldn’t answer. Why would he?

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely press the numbers. I called 911.

“H-hello…” My voice didn’t sound like mine anymore.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked.

“I… I need help,” I said, trying to stay upright, my shoulder pressed to the wall. “Something’s wrong. My head hurts so bad and I can’t… I can’t—”

The phone slipped from my hand.

The last thing I heard was the operator calling my name over and over, her voice fading as everything went dark.

---

Bright lights burned my eyes when I woke up. A steady beeping filled the room. The smell of disinfectant made my stomach turn. I was in a hospital bed. Alone.

A nurse rushed in when she saw my eyes open. “Ms. Colombo, you’re awake. Thank God. How are you feeling right now?”

My throat felt like sandpaper. “How long… how long was I out?”

“You were brought in late last night,” she said softly. “Paramedics found you unconscious at home. You had a severe migraine episode and a nosebleed. Is there anyone we should call for you? Your husband? Family?”

Family.

The word hurt more than my head.

I gave a small, broken laugh. “No,” I said quietly. “There’s no one left to call.”

The nurse looked at me like she wanted to say something, then thought better of it. She just nodded.

The next morning, they discharged me. I went home alone.

The moment I stepped inside, I felt it. That heavy presence. Like the air had shifted.

He was there.

Gusion sat on the couch like he belonged there, suit perfect, phone in one hand, briefcase on the floor. He looked bored. Impatient. Like he was waiting for a meeting to start.

My chest tightened. “Why are you here?” I asked. My voice sounded small.

He stood up calmly, opened his briefcase, and pulled out a thick stack of papers. A pen clipped neatly on top. He held them out to me.

“We need to settle this,” he said. “Sign these.”

I stared at the papers, my hands trembling. “What is this?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Divorce papers. Everything’s already arranged. Assets, custody schedules, legal terms. I just need your signature so we can move forward.”

Divorce—what?

I looked at his face. There was nothing there. No regret. No apology. Not even discomfort.

“After everything,” I whispered, “this is all you have to say to me?”

He sighed, clearly annoyed. “Miya, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. This is the cleanest solution for everyone. Especially Nana.”

My heart sank.