Terminal Illness Revelry: Her Last Dinner

When my wife, Rosalie Wood, had her first meal after she regained consciousness, the attending doctor, Ethan Joeman, took my seat. He cut the steak while he pointed at her rosy face and looked at me with open defiance.

“Do you know how medical miracles happen? It is not because of your constant presence. It is because of my in‑depth treatment.”

My fingers that held the knife and fork turned pale.

Ethan grew even more brazen. His feet rubbed against my wife's calves under the table.

“A person in a vegetative state can still feel things. Every night after you left, I did awakening therapy for her. She said her body could not move, yet the sense of being conquered made her feel as though her soul left her body. She woke up because she wanted to feel it again. Last night, she said she wanted to thank her savior and asked me to check her firmness after recovery. She did not disappoint me.”

I looked at Rosalie, who stared at the doctor with admiration, and my chest tightened.

To pay for her treatment, I sold my house and car. I slept on a folding bed in this hospital for three years. I bathed her and turned her over every day.

It turned out that my three years of round‑the‑clock care meant nothing compared to a few acts of harassment committed while she was vulnerable.

I took a drug from my bag and smiled as I poured Ethan a glass of wine. I thought, ‘You went through a lot, yet her awakening was only a brief moment of clarity before death. She has super‑drug‑resistant syphilis. Congratulations. You caught it too.’

“Dr. Joeman, this piece of meat is overcooked. I do not want it.” Rosalie Wood frowned and pushed the plate away in a playful manner. Her gaze lingered on Ethan Joeman, who sat across from her.

Ethan understood her hint and set down his knife and fork. He cut a small piece of tender, blood‑streaked meat from his plate, dipped it in the sauce, and held it directly to Rosalie’s mouth.

“Here, Rosie, open your mouth. I ordered this for you. It is medium rare and very nourishing. You just woke up, so you need something that gives you energy.”

Rosalie opened her mouth and took the piece of meat. Her tongue brushed against Ethan’s fingertip on purpose.

“Hmm… It is so delicious. Dr. Joeman, you treat me well.”

Ethan let out a pleased chuckle as his hand slid down to the backrest of her chair. His fingertips glided lightly over her back.

“As long as you obey and cooperate with my rehabilitation training, you will have plenty of delicious food in the future.”

I sat across from them. The veins on the back of my hand bulged, and my knuckles turned white. I slammed my glass on the table.

“We are in public. Do you mind showing some discretion?”

Rosalie’s seductive smile vanished. Her gaze turned cold and resentful as she looked at me. She studied me from head to toe, her eyes stopping on the worn collar of my shirt. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Leo Leighton, stop ruining the mood. Dr. Joeman is checking my muscle sensitivity. This is part of the treatment. An uncultured simpleton like you knows nothing about it.”

Ethan lifted his wine glass and swirled the liquid inside it. He looked at me as though I were insignificant.

“Mr. Leighton, you do not understand medical matters. The reconnection of nerves after recovery from a vegetative state is crucial. I am helping Rosie stimulate her cerebral cortex through touch. You should be grateful.”

His hand grew even more audacious. It slid from her back to her breasts, and he pinched them through the fabric.

Rosalie let out a soft, playful sound and leaned closer to Ethan. She pointed at me with a mocking smile.

“Look at you. You smell like disinfectant mixed with sweat. It is awful. Why can you not learn from Dr. Joeman? He has a PhD from abroad, and every gesture shows sophistication. Sitting at the same table with you ruins my appetite.”

My heart sank, and a cold feeling spread through my chest.

It turned out I had been kept in the dark for years.

For three years, I had sold everything I owned to keep her alive.

I slept on a creaky folding bed beside her hospital bed. I woke up every two hours to turn her over and clean her, even when I could barely stay awake.

I used my hands to catch her excrement and removed hardened stool piece by piece, all so she would not develop bedsores and her skin could remain as fair and smooth as it was now.

However, what did I receive in return?

My tireless protection became, in her eyes, a sign of incompetence and poverty. Ethan’s repeated acts of harassment while she was vulnerable had somehow become, in her words, a treatment that reached deep into her soul.

Five years of deep love, and I had been deceived until I had nothing left. Since that was the case, she should not blame me for being ruthless.

I took a slow breath and forced down the violent anger rising in my chest.

There was no point in losing my temper now. I wanted to watch them rise to great heights, then collapse and rot in the mud. I loosened my clenched fist and forced a smile.

“Rosie is right. I was immature and incompetent. It is all thanks to Dr. Joeman for taking care of you these past few years.”

I picked up the decanter and stood to pour wine into their glasses.

“This meal is my thank‑you gift to Dr. Joeman and a celebration of Rosie’s recovery.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, surprised that I backed down so quickly after showing such resentment.

He enjoyed the thrill of stepping on another man’s dignity. He waved his hand in a generous manner.

“It is good that you understand. Some things require talent and ability.”

Rosalie snorted, already used to what she believed was my cowardice.

“Glad you came to your senses.”

I sat back down and pulled a small white pillbox from my pocket. I poured out two pills, tossed them into my mouth, tilted my head back, and swallowed them with water.

“What is that?” Rosalie asked.

I kept my expression calm.

“Vitamins. I stayed up too late these past few years, so I am weak. I need supplements. Otherwise, how will I have the energy to make money for your rehabilitation?”

In reality, it was a high‑potency suppressant I had obtained through a friend.

Rosalie rolled her eyes and turned to Ethan with a bright smile.

“Dr. Joeman, let us drink.”

Ethan raised his glass, his arm slipping through hers. The two of them drank from crossed cups in front of me, their eyes filled with longing.