I rushed out of the hospital, barely able to see through the tears streaming down my face. My chest ached, and I was sobbing so hard I couldn’t even breathe properly. The pain was too much, it drowned every thought, every ounce of strength I had left.
“Hey! Watch where you're going!” someone yelled after I bumped into them, but I barely registered it.
“I’m s-sorry,” I mumbled, my voice cracking as I kept walking. I was a mess—emotionally wrecked and completely shattered. My heart felt like it had been crushed into tiny pieces, and there was no putting it back together.
I never thought Lucas could do this to me. I should’ve seen the signs. The way he grew distant, how his attention slowly slipped away. The way he barely had time for me anymore. And now I know why. It’s because of her…Jemma.
The realization hit me like a slap in the face.
When I got home, I went straight to our room and collapsed on the bed. I cried, God, I cried until my throat went dry and my chest hurt from sobbing. I couldn’t believe the man I loved was slowly slipping away from me. And the worst part? I had to watch it happen, helplessly.
Night fell, and finally, Lucas came home.
I wiped my tears and tried to gather myself. I didn’t want him to see how broken I was. But the puffiness of my eyes gave me away.
“Hey, I’m home,” he greeted.
I met him at the door, forcing a small smile. But I didn’t say a word.
“What happened to you?” he asked, noticing my red eyes. “Why do you look like you've been crying?”
I shook my head quickly. “I was just watching a movie,” I lied. “It got to me.”
“Oh,” he said, brushing it off. “You shouldn’t cry over things like that. Movies aren’t even real.”
His words stung. He didn’t know the real reason for my tears, and maybe he didn’t care enough to ask again.
I swallowed hard and asked the question I’d been holding in my chest.
“How’s Jemma?”
He paused.
Then he turned to me, his expression suddenly serious. “About that… I’ll be away more often from now on.”
“Why?” I asked, already fearing the answer. My heart pounded in my chest.
“Jemma needs me,” he said softly. “You know our history. But don’t worry, I don’t love her anymore. I love you.”
‘Then why her?! You’re leaving me behind, Lucas!’ I wanted to scream.
“She’s dying,” he added.
‘I’m dying too!’ I badly want to tell him, but I couldn’t…I can’t.
“She has no one else. I’m the only one she can turn to.”
He kissed my forehead gently. “Let’s rest,” he whispered, taking my hand as we lay in bed.
But that night, I couldn’t sleep.
Days passed, and Lucas kept his promise, always with Jemma, while I was left behind, slowly dying.
Until the day I visited Dr. Romano for a check-up.
He looked at me with quiet concern. “Ma’am Priscilla,” he said, “your case is worsening. You might not survive past this week.”
And just like that, the world around me collapsed.
“You’ll need a blood transfusion,” Dr. Romano said carefully. “Your condition is serious. Your body doesn’t have enough healthy red blood cells to carry sufficient oxygen to your tissues. That’s why you’re always tired, always weak.”
I sat there quietly, my hands trembling in my lap.
“You need a blood donor, someone who can potentially save your life,” he continued. “Does your husband know about this? Sir Lucas? I can run tests to see if he’s a compatible donor.”
I bit my lower lip at the mention of Lucas.
“No,” I admitted quietly. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“What?” Dr. Romano frowned. “You need to tell him. He has the right to know what you’re going through.”
I looked down, avoiding his gaze. My heart was already carrying too much.
“He’s here, actually,” the doctor added. “He came with his first wife… Miss Jemma.”
His words landed heavily in my chest, a painful reminder of how far I’d drifted from Lucas in his heart.
“He is your husband. He needs to know,” the doctor insisted.
“No,” I whispered, standing up slowly. “It’s okay. I can take care of myself.”
And with that, I turned my back on Dr. Romano and walked out of his office, each step heavier than the last.
Everything around me felt like a blur. My body felt drained, as if the little life I had left was slipping out through my fingertips. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do anymore. I didn’t even know if I had the strength to keep going.
When I got home, I wasn’t expecting anything unusual. I just wanted to lie down and breathe.
But the moment I opened the door, my breath hitched in my throat.
Lucas was there.
And beside him, like a scene from a nightmare, was Jemma.
“W-What’s going on here?” I asked, trying to steady my voice, but the tremble betrayed me.
Lucas stood up and approached me, guilt written all over his face.
“Finally, you’re home,” he said, his tone soft. “I’m sorry this is so sudden.”
I looked between him and Jemma, my mind was racing with questions.
“But Jemma… she’ll be staying with us,” he continued, trying to explain. “She has nowhere else to go.”
My heart stopped. My world tilted. The woman who had already taken so much from me, my husband’s time, his affection, his presence, was now going to take space in our home too?
I felt like screaming.
But I couldn’t. I was too tired, too broken.
I forced myself to nod faintly, but inside, I was crumbling.
Lucas didn’t know. He didn’t know I was dying.
And now, I wasn’t even sure if he’d care once he did.
