Chuck had teased me then: “That won’t work. Our future sons and daughters will feel cramped. We’ll need something bigger.”
I had shaken my head stubbornly: “Then let them have the big house. We’ll stay here.”
“Alright, alright, whatever you say.”
Through the cracks of time, fragments of memories flashed through my mind.
The two of us curled up on the sofa handling work, occasionally looking up to give each other a kiss.
During leisure moments, our bodies pressed close as we watched a movie; in moments of passion, making love.
The day of my diagnosis, he looked as if the sky had fallen, pale and shocked. For three days and nights, he didn’t eat or drink, crying whenever he saw me.
The day I moved into the hospital, he busied himself moving practically our entire home there, afraid I wouldn’t feel comfortable.
When chemotherapy made me nauseous and I clung to the toilet bowl, nearly vomiting up my bile, he cleaned me
while his heart broke for me.
The day we found a bone marrow match, he threw himself into my arms, more excited than closing a billion–dollar deal: “Willow, we can grow old together after all!”
The good times were real, which made the present situation all the more painful.
I took a deep breath and walked further inside.
After packing my travel essentials and preparing to leave, I suddenly heard the door open.
My heart suspended in midair–had he returned?
I looked over, only to see another familiar face.
Our housekeeper, Aunt Cynthia.
She rushed to me in three quick steps, excitedly examining me up and down. “You’re back! Is the illness cured?”
I shook my head.
The light in her eyes instantly turned to concern, then understanding when she noticed the suitcase at my
Her thick eyebrows shot up in disapproval as she said: “Did you forget to bring something, and Chuck wouldn’t help you, so you had to come back yourself? I swear that bitch has turned him into someone I don’t recognize anymore.”
I hadn’t realized Aunt Cynthia had such a strong dislike for Isa.
11:24
My Fiancé Fell in Love with My Bone Marrow Donor, and They Decided to Let Me Die
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Chapter 3
But an explanation soon followed.
“The first year after you left, that woman kept up appearances quite well. But by the second year, her true colors
showed.”
“She kept trying to change the house decorations, moving her things in and throwing yours into the storage room.”
“While you were fighting for your life in the hospital, she was causing trouble here. I couldn’t stand it–for every item she brought in, I threw one out. She ended up crying, claiming I was bullying her. When Chuck came to settle things, I scolded him too.”
“If he wanted to fire me, fine, but I wasn’t going to let this house fill up with her junk!”
“Later, Chuck took her to live in the big house, and I just come here occasionally to clean up.”
I suddenly understood.
It was Aunt Cynthia who had preserved this house, not Chuck. The tiny warmth I’d felt in my heart completely dissipated.
Before leaving, I told Aunt Cynthia that they could do whatever they wanted with the place from now on.
“You and Chuck broke up?”
“Yes, we broke up.”
Aunt Cynthia only regretted it for a moment before saying: “Good. Once you’re better, I’ll introduce you to other good men!”
I smiled, accepting her kindness, and left in the car with her watching me go.
After buying my plane ticket, I waited quietly at the gate.
I watched people coming and going, some separating, others reuniting–finally not just observing the rise and fall of the sun from a hospital window.
Suddenly, my phone kept vibrating with message after message pouring in.
I’d blocked Chuck and Isa, and I’d just seen the only two people I knew–Dr. Sinclair and Aunt Cynthia. As an orphan who’d been sick for years, I didn’t have many friends.
I opened the notifications to discover that my previous post had gone viral. It had over a thousand likes and hundreds of comments, all offering me comfort and cursing the “male lead.”
And They Decided to Let Me Die
