"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.
