“Giving up on this operation is the same as signing away your future, Joyce,” the doctor warned quietly. “You understand what’s at stake. Without a transplant, you might not even survive another few weeks.”
She paused, her fingers brushing the edge of my medical file, her gaze gentle but firm. “You’ve waited years for a matching donor. Everything is ready. Please don’t throw this away now.”
I stared at my own hands — skin stretched too thin over bone, veins faint and lifeless. They shook as if they didn’t belong to me anymore. I had to swallow twice before my voice came out.
“I don’t need it, Doctor. It’s fine. My life doesn’t have a purpose anymore. Let someone else take it… someone who still wants to keep breathing.”
“Joyce, listen—” she began urgently.
I rose before she could finish, lowering my head in a shallow bow as if politeness could soften the cruelty of my decision, and hurried out of her office.
The hallway felt endless. My knees trembled so badly I barely made it to the bench outside before collapsing onto it, my lungs burning, my whole body quaking as though winter had settled into my bones.
On any other day, I would have fought for survival. I would have clung desperately to every breath for Leander — for the vows we once whispered about building a home filled with children, noisy dinners, ordinary happiness. For him, I would have endured anything.
But that life had already died.
I fixed my gaze on the glossy hospital tiles as the past dragged me backward.
Five years earlier, I had married the man I loved since we were teenagers. Everyone thought Leander and I were destiny — the childhood couple who would grow old together, bound by affection and family ties. No one ever suspected there was more than romance behind my marriage.
Five years ago was also when my world shattered.
My family’s company collapsed after Virelle — the girl I called my sister, my closest friend — stole everything. She had struggled to find work after graduation because of her background, and against my parents’ wishes, I insisted she join our finance department. I believed in her. Trusted her completely.
She emptied our accounts and disappeared.
My father couldn’t survive the disgrace. He ended his own life.
My mother, crushed by grief, became a shadow of herself, clinging to frail breaths only because I refused to let go.
And that was when Leander became everyone’s hero.
He married me when I was drowning in scandal and debt. His influential family rescued mine. My mother got treatment. Our home stayed standing. I told myself he still loved me — that the boy who promised never to abandon me in high school was still somewhere inside the man I married.
But a week ago, the illusion cracked.
It was our fifth wedding anniversary. We had planned a quiet celebration, but that afternoon he called and said flatly, “Something came up. Cancel everything.”
No apology. No warmth. Just dismissal.
Instead of staying home, pretending I was fine, I drove to the marina. The yacht had always been my refuge — the smell of salt, the hush of water. I thought it might ease the hollow inside me.
It didn’t.
As I stepped onto the deck, voices drifted toward me.
Virelle’s voice, cautious and soft. “Is it really okay for you to be here today? Isn’t this the day you married Joyce?”
Leander replied without hesitation. “So what? You know I only married her because everyone expected it — my parents included. Her family used to be generous to us when they had money. And after you walked out on me five years ago, she was the only option.”
Virelle sounded remorseful, almost crying. “I never meant for things to go so wrong. I was stupid, trusting those men. I thought I was helping the company because I owed her too.”
“That’s exactly why she wanted you dead,” Leander snapped. “Instead of forgiving you, she tried to destroy you. You’re the one who paid the price. Don’t worry. She won’t be around forever. When she’s gone, we’ll finally have our life — with our son.”
I stumbled back, clamping my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. The deck blurred. My heart pounded so violently I thought I might collapse right there.
Virelle hadn’t disappeared.
He had hidden her.
I escaped before they noticed me, carrying a truth that hollowed me out from the inside.
“Joyce?”
The nurse’s call dragged me out of the memory. Her face was pale. “Your mother… something’s wrong. Please come now.”
Terror ripped through me as I sprinted after her.
The room was chaos — alarms blaring, doctors shouting, hands pressing against my mother’s fragile body. I froze at the doorway, whispering her name over and over like a prayer.
Then the monitors went silent.
The doctor turned toward me slowly. “I’m so sorry. We’ve done all we can.”
My legs folded beneath me. I collapsed beside the bed, gripping my mother’s cold fingers, sobbing until my chest hurt.
“Please… don’t leave me too. I can’t do this alone…”
She was gone.
The last reason I had to fight was gone.
My illness no longer felt like a curse — it felt like release.
I took out my phone with shaking hands and dialed Leander’s number. The call connected.
But his voice didn’t answer.
A woman laughed softly into the line, breathless. “Mmm… Leander… don’t slow down…”
