In the third year of my marriage to Dylan, a young, beautiful, energetic girl showed up with a pregnant belly.

"I'm pregnant with Dylan's baby. Be smart and divorce him voluntarily," she said.

"Divorce?" I laughed.

My laugh was rather weird.

Perhaps before the divorce day came, he would become a widower.

Because I had cancer. I was dying.

***

The day I was diagnosed with bile duct cancer, the sky was drizzling and foggy. It was just like my mood, which was ashen.

I held my phone, wanting several times to call Dylan and have a good cry.

Why was fate so cruel? I was just in my early thirties. How could I have such a terminal illness!

But I held back.

I couldn't tell him.

Even if I told him, what could he do?

The doctor said I had only three to five months left. Even if I told him, it wouldn't solve anything. It would only add to the sorrow and worries.

I didn't want to make him worry.

I didn't want to see him cry until his eyes were red.

I immediately decided to use the remaining time to say a proper goodbye to him.

But while I was still carefully planning, his lover showed up with her pregnant belly.

How ironic!

Dylan and I met when we were young. We promised each other forever during our naive years.

After graduation, I passionately joined him in starting a business.

I lived with him in a basement. I went with him to the vegetable wholesale market at 3 AM. I pushed a cart with him, selling burgers in cold winter.

Step by step, year after year.

I was with him as he went from a penniless boy to a nationwide restaurant tycoon with thousands of chain stores.

I stayed with him for ten years.

In the tenth year, he knelt before me with a dazzling diamond ring.

He shouted excitedly as if he wanted everyone to hear.

"Olivia, marry me!" he said.

He always said he would wait until he could give me a comfortable life before marrying me. He kept his word.

Even though I waited from my early twenties to my early thirties, I was still happy.

Even though the doctor said I was older, my health wasn't great. I was uncertain if I could conceive, but I wasn't too worried.

Dylan said he would take care of me like a daughter. It didn't matter if we had children or not.

I believed him.

But now?

The man who said he didn't care about children got another woman pregnant.

My heart felt like it was being stabbed, a pain a thousand times worse than the cancer inside me.

The pregnant girl seemed provoked by my smile. She immediately changed her expression and slammed the table in anger.

"You can't have children. What's the point of holding onto Mrs. Scott's title?

"Dylan stopped loving you long ago. He just couldn't bear to dump you because you've been with him through the tough times!

"If you're smart, you'll file for divorce yourself. You can still get some money. Otherwise...

"I'll make sure you don't get a penny!" she said.

She was young, but her tone was quite arrogant.

I held back my pain and splashed the coffee in her face. Then I turned and walked away.

As I was about to leave, I heard the girl crying and complaining to Dylan on the phone.

I didn't know what was said on the other end of the line, but the girl cooed, "I knew you were the best."

I suddenly felt dazed.

Once upon a time, I had said something like that to Dylan too.

But now, things had changed.

The man once treasured me and couldn't bear to see me shed a tear.

But now, he was comforting another girl.

I quickened my pace. As soon as I sat in the car, I couldn't hold back. I collapsed on the steering wheel and sobbed.

I cried even harder than the day I was diagnosed with cancer.

Ten years of hard work, three years of marriage, all for someone else.

On second thought, maybe this wasn't so bad.

At least now, I could leave without any attachments.