"This new treatment is risky. I might die, so I need you to lie to my parents for me."

"Tell them I died of cancer. If the treatment actually works, I'll come back and surprise them."

I frowned. "You think they'll buy that?"

"Trust me, my parents are easy to fool. If they insist on seeing my body, just tell them I didn't want them to grieve, so you had me cremated at the funeral home and scattered my ashes at sea—per my last wishes."

"You've really thought this through."

"Tomorrow we'll get divorced, then I'll go abroad for treatment."

"You're just going for treatment, not dying. Do we really have to divorce?"

"My junior from college said there's a new policy over there—unmarried women with breast cancer get a discount on the experimental therapy."

"Honey, I'm trying to save you money. Can't you understand? Besides, it's just a fake divorce, not a real one. Once I'm better, I'll come back and we'll get remarried."

"If it's for your own good, I won't argue."

"Thank you, honey. I love you so much."

Seeing me agree, Patricia finally smiled and stood on her tiptoes to give me a quick peck on the lips.

The next morning, we went to the County Clerk's Office and finalized the divorce.

She said she needed to meet with her college junior to discuss the overseas treatment.

Then she left.

Less than thirty minutes later, that college junior of hers posted a new video.

"Thanks for all the advice, everyone! My goddess successfully faked an illness to escape her husband's control. We've got our tickets—Hawaii, here we come!"

"I've been waiting for this day for so long. Once we're in Hawaii, I'll post regular updates about our life together."

"You'll all get to witness our happiness!"

The video came with photos. No faces, but two people holding hands, fingers intertwined.

I could clearly see the woman's sleeve—a black blouse with a floral pattern. The same blouse I had personally picked out and bought for Patricia.

If yesterday was just suspicion, now I was certain.

This "goddess" he kept talking about was my wife.

It felt like a boulder had dropped onto my chest. I could barely breathe.

We'd been married for years. Happy years.

I never imagined that one day, I'd be the one getting cheated on.

That night, Patricia didn't come home.

She texted me saying she was planning the trip abroad with her junior. Their flight was early the next morning.

I asked if she wanted me to see her off at the airport.

She said no need.

After that, my messages went unanswered.

I put down my phone and took a deep breath.

She was probably wrapped up with him right now.

If I kept texting, I'd just look pathetic.

I barely slept that night.

The next day, Patricia and her junior showed up at the airport.

They walked close together, laughing and chatting. Sharing a cookie between them. Couldn't even walk without being all over each other.

The way they clung to each other—they looked more like a married couple than we ever did.

The worst part? They walked right past me.

Patricia didn't even notice.

I kept my expression blank and recorded everything.

Only after their plane took off did I head home.

Meanwhile, the junior posted another video.

The photo showed two people holding hands as they boarded the plane.

"Hey everyone, boarding now with my goddess!"

"Destination: Hawaii."

"I think I might be the happiest man alive right now!"

The comments were full of envy and congratulations.

Wyatt replied to each one earnestly.

When someone in the comments asked, "What about your goddess's husband?"

Wyatt responded: "Who cares about him? Just some greasy middle-aged loser, always looking like a slob, reeking of body odor."

"My goddess had to lie next to him every night. Pure torture."

"But it's all good now—they're divorced. From here on out, she's all mine."

"She's finally free!"

Since Wyatt's profile had videos showing his face, everyone could see he was young, handsome, and full of energy.

So nobody called him out for wrecking a marriage.

Instead, they all wished him and his goddess a happily-ever-after.

Reading this made my blood boil. I made a burner account and left a comment: "Your goddess had a baby with another man. That doesn't bother you?"

Less than two minutes later, Wyatt replied.

"Ha! You think my goddess would ever have a kid with that guy?"

"They didn't have children?"

"She got pregnant once, but I didn't want my goddess ruining her figure from childbirth. So I talked her into getting rid of it."

When I saw that reply, rage shot straight to my head.

So that's why Patricia could never get pregnant these past few years. We'd gone to the hospital, ran all the tests—nothing wrong with either of us.

Her parents had even tried to comfort me, telling me not to stress about it. Pregnancy happens when it happens. Just let nature take its course.

But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this.

There was nothing wrong with our bodies. Patricia could get pregnant.

She had been pregnant. She just never told anyone. Then, at Wyatt's urging, she went behind everyone's backs and quietly had it aborted.

I fought down the urge to kill someone and typed: "You talked her into an abortion. Aren't you afraid of karma?"

Wyatt replied: "Me? Afraid of karma? Ha! Don't make me laugh. There's no such thing."

"As long as my goddess belongs to me and only me."

"Even if lightning struck me down, I'd take it."

"Anyway, gotta go—my goddess and I are off to enjoy our romantic getaway in Hawaii. Later! Catch you in the next video."

After that, Wyatt stopped replying.

And I made a major decision in my heart.

A few days later.

We were eating dinner when my in-laws asked where Patricia was.

They hadn't seen her in days.

I hesitated before answering. "Mom, Dad... Patricia's been busy with a lot of things."

They seemed a little suspicious, but accepted the explanation.

Then, a week later, they got into a car accident.

Calvin Gilbert died at the scene.

Nora Gilbert was badly injured.

Fortunately, after emergency treatment at the hospital, her life was no longer in danger.

But when she learned her husband was dead, she wept uncontrollably, passing out several times.

I stayed at the hospital caring for her for two weeks.

The question she asked most often during that time:

"Where's my daughter?"

I never gave her a straight answer.

Until today.

I had just finished cleaning out her bedpan and was walking back into the room.

She dropped to her knees with a heavy thud.

"Luther, ever since you married into our family..."

"I've treated you like my own son."

"Please. I'm begging you. Tell me what happened to my daughter."

"Why can't I get through when I call her?"

"Ask her coworkers."

"They all said she quit a long time ago."

"What exactly happened between you two?"

I hurried to help my mother-in-law up.

There was no hiding it anymore.

I let out a long sigh. "Mom, Patricia... she passed away from breast cancer. Her body was cremated, and her ashes were scattered at sea, just like she wanted."

"Wh-what?"

My mother-in-law froze, staring at me in disbelief.

I wiped my eyes and choked out an explanation.

I told her it happened over two weeks ago.

Patricia had discovered she had late-stage breast cancer.

She didn't want her family to suffer.

So she chose to bear it alone, in silence.

"Why didn't she tell us sooner?"

"Patricia said she wanted to keep it from you as long as she could."

"You... you two..."

My mother-in-law was shaking with anger and grief. First her husband, now her daughter—the double blow was too much. She collapsed, unconscious.

When she woke up, she cried until she lost her voice.

Later, I got a text from Patricia using an unknown number.

"How are my parents?"

"You didn't tell them the truth, did you?"

I smiled and replied: "Did exactly what you asked."

"You're the best, babe. Keep covering for me."

"Something happened at home. Are you coming back?"

"I'm busy. Whatever it is, don't bother me with it."

"Just handle things there."

I sent another message. No response. Again.

Patricia.

Keep having fun with your little boyfriend.

A cold smile tugged at my lips.

After that, all contact between us stopped completely.

The only updates I got were from videos her boyfriend posted—the two of them living it up.

As for home, my mother-in-law was a ghost of herself after leaving the hospital. She wandered around the house muttering to herself. I could see it—she was on the edge of losing her mind.

One day, she called me to her room. She handed me a sealed envelope, her eyes red and raw.

"Luther," she said, "I can't hold on much longer. I'm afraid I'll lose my mind completely. Before that happens, take this. It's everything the Gilbert family owns."