Cheating Husbands are Cancer

To get me to agree to a divorce, my husband lied and told me he had stomach cancer.

I glanced at the medical report in my bag and said nothing.

Instead, I broke down right then and there, sobbing like my heart was being ripped apart, absolutely refusing to divorce him.

Because what he didn't know… was that he actually had cancer.

Just not stomach cancer—liver cancer.

And with his funeral coming up soon, if we divorced now, who would inherit all his assets?

No way. I couldn't let this divorce happen!

“Rachel Steiner, let’s get a divorce.

“It’s terminal. I’d rather not trouble you any further.”

Ian Smith lay curled up at one end of the sofa. He had his face buried in his hands, so that I couldn’t see what sort of expression he was wearing.

But I could hear, in that hoarse whisper, all the agony and despair he was feeling.

My gaze strayed over to the handbag, where it had been discarded. Among its contents was a report of Ian’s physical examination.

A tumor in the liver, the doctor had told me.

My eyes stung. I fought back sudden tears.

So he’d found out about that, after all.

I’d been waiting for all the arrangements to be in place, first. For the money to come through. And then—after several more days, perhaps—I’d have told him.

I stepped forward and held him gently, my tears plummeting down onto his shoulder.

“I’m not leaving you. Everything will be alright. Even if we have to sell every last thing we own, we’ll get you cured. It’s only cancer, big deal. Medicine has come a long way.”

He pushed me aside, surged to his feet, and went over to stand before the window, his back to me. “The doctor diagnosed it as late-stage stomach cancer. Cure me, you say? There is no cure.”

I mustered my courage and forced my lips into a smile. I needed to tell him my plans: “As for money, you needn’t worry. I’ve got it all figured out! I’ll sell that place I’ve got, downtown—”

Something gave me pause. Had I just misheard him?

“Stomach cancer?” I blurted out in confusion. “Did you just say stomach cancer?”

He tensed up.

“That’s right. Late-stage stomach cancer,” he muttered darkly. “Here’s the medical report.”

He handed me a document, issued by the hospital. Upon it, I read those same words in black-and-white, a certified diagnosis.

And yet, the doctor performing his physical today had repeatedly emphasized liver problems…

I quietly stuffed that report back into my purse. All of my anguished sorrow had completely evaporated in an instant, replaced by suspicion and paranoia.

Frowning at his back, I gently inquired, “I wonder if it’s possible that the doctor made some kind of mistake? How about you come with me… I’d like to get you re-examined.”

“No!” he growled, whirling around to face me.

But then he caught himself, his demeanor softening instantly. He came over and drew me into a fierce embrace, burying his face tightly against my shoulder.

“Rachel, you know very well I can’t stand hospitals. That day, my dad disappeared into one, and then I never saw him again.

“Anyway, my medical fees need not be any of your concern. Let’s get divorced right away, so that you’ll at least make it out with a little something for yourself. Otherwise, my condition will bankrupt us both. Selling your other place probably won’t make enough to cover it.”

Towards the latter half of this statement, I noticed a faintly manic quality in his voice. He almost sounded… eager?

I stood there, silent and expressionless, staring blankly at the lights outside the window. Tears continued to stream down my cheeks… but now there was also a chill creeping through my heart.

Ian was lying to me.

The man I’d been married to for a full decade… he now meant to deceive me.

I raised my head to look at him, to search his expression for even the slightest trace of guilt or remorse.

I found nothing of the sort whatsoever.

I let my gaze fall away, and allowed the torment to show on my face. “I’ll need some time to think this through.”

I watched him in the dying light, and caught a subtle flash of delight crossing his features. I felt a stab, somewhere deep in my heart.

I took my handbag with me into the bedroom, lay down on the bed, and closed my eyes, surrendering myself to a roiling storm of thoughts and emotions.

Indeed, there was much for me to think about.

Hidden within my handbag was Ian’s physical examination report… as well as my own pregnancy test results.

Weal and woe, arriving together, hand-in-hand.

Well, perhaps this child might no longer count as good news…

It had been a day of roller-coaster ups and downs. One moment, my nerves had been wound up tight enough to choke me—and then, just like that, all the tension left me.

Only mere moments after collapsing upon the bed, I’d drifted off into a deep slumber…

I awoke with a start, in the middle of the night. Reflexively, I reached out to the side and patted the bed.

Ian wasn’t there.

However, I could see that the lights were on in the bathroom—and from within, Ian’s voice could be heard. He was on a phone call with somebody.

Ever so carefully, I tip-toed closer. I could only hear his side of the conversation.

“Relax, Mom… she’d never suspect me. The only problem is that—you know me—she’s so thoroughly captivated by my overpowering charisma, that she just can’t bear the thought of a divorce.

“Ah, that place she’s got downtown? She’ll sell it off, for my sake.”

Silently, I returned to bed, and squeezed my eyes shut once more—but I was unable to hold back a fresh wave of tears.

Soon, I felt Ian’s weight upon the bed, beside me.