My husband wants a divorce, but I'm dying

"Six months, Sabrina. At most." Dr. Evans slid the manila folder across his steel desk.

I stared at the stark white paper. "There has to be a mistake. Run the tests again."

"I ran them three times. Your heart muscle is deteriorating rapidly."

"But I’m twenty-nine. I don’t have a family history of heart disease."

"Sometimes genetics mutate. Sometimes the body just gives out under extreme stress."

"Extreme stress? You mean taking care of my husband?"

"You spent seven years in this hospital, Sabrina. You barely slept. You didn't eat right. Now that Colton is awake and fully recovered, your body is finally crashing."

"So I saved his life just to lose mine?"

Dr. Evans sighed, folding his hands on the desk. "Get your affairs in order. Spend time with Colton. Take that vacation you two always talked about."

"Six months," I repeated.

"I'll prescribe pain management medication. But you need to tell him today."

"I will. He'll know what to do. Colton always knows what to do."

I pushed the front door open. The heavy scent of white roses filled the entryway. Dozens of bouquets covered the mahogany coffee table. In the center sat a velvet box.

"Colton?" I called out.

"In here," he answered.

He stepped into the living room, adjusting the cuffs of a tailored black suit.

"You're home early," he said.

"What is all this? Are we celebrating?"

"In a way."

"Is it for my birthday? That's next month."

"It's not for you." He picked up a thick envelope from the side table and held it out. "Sign these."

"Sign what?"

"The divorce agreement."

"Divorce? Colton, what are you talking about?"

"Opal is back."

"Opal?" I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "The woman who blocked your number the day after your car wrapped around a tree? That Opal?"

"Keep your voice down," Colton warned, glancing toward the hallway as if she were hiding there.

"Why? Are you embarrassed? You should be. I stayed, Colton. I bathed you. I fed you through a tube. I slept in a plastic chair next to your bed for seven years."

"And I paid you back by marrying you when I woke up. But I never loved you, Sabrina. I was just grateful."

"Grateful? You call this gratitude?"

"Opal was scared. She was young."

"We were all young! I was twenty-two!"

"She's ready now." He tapped the envelope against the glass table. "I've left you the house in the suburbs and a generous alimony. It's more than fair."

"You're proposing to her. Today."

"Yes."

"While we are still married."

"That's why I need your signature." He checked his gold watch. "I have a reservation at eight. Please don't make this difficult."

"Did you even try to love me?" I asked, my voice cracking. "Even for a single day since you woke up?"

"Love isn't something you try to do. It just is. And it is with Opal."

"Seven years of my life, Colton. I dropped out of college. I worked three jobs to pay for your experimental treatments."

"I didn't ask you to sacrifice your twenties for me. You chose to play the martyr."

"I was your wife!"

"On paper. Because my parents insisted I owed you. They're gone now. I don't owe anyone anything."

"You owe me your life."

"I wrote you a check for two million dollars. That covers your time."

"My time? You think you can buy back the youth I gave you?"

"Take the money, Sabrina. Move on. Find someone who actually wants you."

I stared at him. The man I saved. He stood tall, broad-shouldered, radiating health. Meanwhile, my own heart was rotting inside my chest, giving out after years of carrying his weight. I came home to tell him I was dying. He beat me to the punch.

"Where do I sign?" I asked.

"Bottom of page twelve."

"I'll look them over," I said, snatching the envelope from his hand.

"Sabrina, just sign them now."

"No. I need time."

"Don't drag this out. Opal wants a spring wedding."

"I just found out you're leaving me for the woman who left you to die. You can wait a few hours."

I turned and walked out the door.

The night air stung my face. I drove aimlessly until the neon red 'Emergency' sign of St. Jude's Hospital loomed ahead. The only place I knew. The place I spent my entire adult life. I parked and slumped onto a concrete bench near the entrance.

Tears spilled over. My chest physically hurt. A sharp, squeezing pain shot down my left arm.

"Why?" I screamed into the empty parking lot.

A passing nurse gave me a sympathetic look, but kept walking. People broke down outside hospitals every day. I was just another tragedy.

My phone buzzed. A notification from social media.

I opened it. A live video feed from a mutual friend, Sarah. The caption read: *True love always finds a way.*

Colton knelt in the center of a private dining room. Opal stood before him, wearing a stunning red dress, hands covering her mouth.

"I waited a lifetime for you," Colton said through the speaker.

"You were married," Opal whispered, playing the shy, hesitant girl.

"That was an obligation. You are my soulmate. Marry me, Opal."

"Yes. Yes, Colton."

He slipped the massive diamond onto her finger. The crowd cheered. Sarah flipped the camera around, grinning. "Can you believe it? They are finally together!"

I locked the screen. The silence of the hospital parking lot swallowed me whole.

He didn't just break my heart. He humiliated me. Everyone in that room knew he was still legally married to me. None of them cared.

I unzipped my purse, pulled out a pen, and flipped to the last page of the divorce agreement. My hands shook so violently the ink smeared, but I forced the letters out. *Sabrina Miller.*

Let him have his happily ever after. I wouldn't be around to ruin it anyway.

The moment the cap snapped back onto the pen, my phone rang. An incoming call from Dr. Evans.

I cleared my throat and answered. "Hello?"

"Sabrina, don't leave the city," Dr. Evans said. His tone was sharp, urgent.

"I'm sitting in the parking lot. Did I forget a prescription?"

"No. I was just reviewing your blood panels again." He paused, papers rustling in the background. "There's an anomaly in your toxicology report."

I gripped the phone tighter. "What does that mean?"

"I sent your samples to a specialized lab across town this morning. They just faxed back the detailed breakdown."

"Dr. Evans, you're scaring me."

"You have trace amounts of digitalis in your system. High levels built up over a long period."

"Digitalis? Foxglove? How is that possible?"

"It's a plant extract. Highly toxic to the heart muscle if ingested repeatedly."

"Are you saying my heart isn't failing naturally?"

"I'm saying someone has been poisoning you."