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!
