Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
Ten years ago, I ran away on our wedding day.
My fiancé searched for me for three days and three nights, finally finding me in a hospital bed, pale as a ghost.
I broke down and told him the truth: a flare-up of my chronic genetic disease, with medical bills so high they could drown anyone.
Julian held my trembling hands, his eyes full of heartbreak. He dragged me straight to City Hall anyway, making our vows official.
"Maya, I’m going to make it. I’ll make millions, and I’ll take care of you. You’re never leaving me."
So, I stayed in care, and he came to see me every single night, rain or storm.
He rose from a broke nobody to one of the most ruthless, sought-after tech moguls in the city.
Then yesterday, my medical payments stopped.
Through the throbbing pain in my head, I suddenly realized Julian hadn't replied to my messages in an entire month.
Maybe this fairy tale was supposed to end a long time ago.
I was still reviewing a multimillion-dollar contract for Julian when the nurse came in to tell me my medical account had run dry.
Maybe it was from pulling an all-nighter, but my head was pounding with a dull ache. "How could there be no funds?"
Julian had linked his black card to my treatment bills years ago, setting up automatic transfers every month.
In ten whole years, my balance had never dropped below zero.
The nurse checked her tablet. "The payments stopped three months ago, ma’am. If your husband doesn't clear the balance soon, we won't even be able to administer your next pain blocker."
A chill crept over me. I murmured an apology, unlocked my phone, and opened my SnapChat thread with Julian.
That was when it hit me. Julian hadn't sent a single real text in a month.
Scrolling back, my daily reminders for him to eat well and stay warm were met with cold, one-word replies.
My latest message—telling him my head was splitting—was left on read.
The ringing in my ears grew louder. Grabbing my car keys, I ignored the dizziness and walked out.
My condition had been stable over the last few years, and I mostly stayed in private recovery suites. To make it easier for me to drive to corporate board meetings, I kept a car parked downstairs.
Oddly enough, my usual spot was empty.
I dialed Julian’s number. "Where’s my car?"
It took him forever to answer, though his voice sounded unusually alert. "Where are you going?"
Following a raw gut instinct, I said, "Nowhere. Just noticed it wasn't in the lot."
Julian’s breath sounded slightly ragged. "I took it in for detailing. It’ll be back tomorrow—"
Before he could finish, he let out a muffled groan. My heart jumped. "Julian? What’s wrong?"
He took a heavy breath and tried to sound casual. "Nothing, babe. Just bumped my knee against the desk."
I frowned at the faint squeaking of furniture in the background.
Julian chuckled warmly. "Did you like the flowers I sent yesterday?"
Brushing aside the prickle of unease, my expression softened. "Yeah. I loved them."
About six months ago, Julian had blown off our tenth anniversary for a "business emergency." Since then, he made it up to me by sending a fresh bouquet every single week.
We’d been together so long that even small gestures could still make my heart melt.
I told myself his three-month absence was just because he was swamped with work. I shouldn't be petty like an insecure teenager.
Wanting to surprise him, I mapped out the nearest boutique florist to pick up a bouquet for his office.
All the way there, I imagined his happy smile, feeling a warm flutter in my chest.
Until I pulled into the curb and saw my license plate.
The smile froze on my lips.
I walked up to the sleek sedan. The exact car Julian claimed was at the auto shop.
I looked up at the pastel awning of the flower shop.
The very shop that had delivered fresh blooms to my bedside table for the past six months.
My mind spinning, I pushed open the glass door.
Soft footsteps echoed from the stairs, and two figures came into view.
At a glance, I recognized the man. My husband, Julian.
A pretty young woman was casually adjusting his silk tie, pouting. "What kind of client is she anyway? So clingy! Demanding you come pick her up from the hospital!"
Julian stroked her hair tenderly. "She’s a decade-old account. I have to keep up appearances, sweet girl."
The girl whined, swaying his arm playfully. "Who’s your real baby, huh? My hands hurt so much wrapping custom bouquets for her every single week!"
Julian looked down at her with pure adoration, bringing her fingertips to his lips. "She’s nobody. You’re my queen."
The girl giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck, whispering that the peppermint-flavored ones from last night felt weird and she preferred the strawberry ones.
I leaned against the hallway arch, every filthy whisper driving straight into my skull, slicing my heart to ribbons.
Like a hollow ghost, I walked out of the store and stopped in front of the passenger side of my car.
Two overlapping, smeared handprints were plastered against the steamed window.
Trembling, I pulled the door open.
A pair of torn black lace stockings lay crumpled on the leather seat.
"Maya?"
The sharp voice made me turn. My eyes locked onto Julian’s.
Panic flashed across his face. He rushed over, shoved me roughly into the passenger seat, slammed the door, and hit the gas.
Watching his white knuckles on the steering wheel, I let out a dry laugh. "Scared she’ll see us?"
Julian’s grip tightened. The wedding band on his left ring finger was long gone. "Maya, I can explain."
He swore up and down that the girl was just Vivian, a casual friend. He claimed he’d had too much to drink after an investor dinner and crashed upstairs at her shop.
I stared at him. "Does your little florist know that the clingy client you complained about is the wife who built your empire with you for ten damn years?"
Julian swerved down a quiet side alley, slammed on the brakes, and turned on me, his face twisting in annoyance. "Were you eavesdropping on us?!"
I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed the torn stockings and threw them directly into his face.
"You’re mad that I heard you, but you’re not mad at yourself for cheating?!"
"Twenty minutes ago, when I was on the phone with you, what the hell were you doing in that car?!"
Julian took a ragged breath, forcing his voice to level out.
"Maya, let’s not make this ugly."
"Every CEO in this city has something on the side. Can’t you just turn a blind eye?"
I looked at him, completely hollowed out.
Even now, he wouldn't apologize. He had no intention of ending things with her.
"No," I whispered. "I won't."
Julian pressed his lips into a tight line. "Fine. I’ll make sure you never see her face again. Happy?"
My gaze was ice. "I said no."
Julian snapped, pointing an aggressive finger in my face.
"I’m a man, Maya! I have physical needs! You can’t satisfy me, so what, I’m supposed to live like a monk?!"
"I hid her away just to protect your precious pride! How else have I wronged you?!"
"It’s been ten years! Thanks to your damn illness, I have no kids, and my wife is basically a hospital decoration! Stop being so damn selfish!"Julian’s cruelty hit me like a tidal wave, drowning out whatever sanity I had left.
I never knew he carried so much disgust inside him.
He was a complete stranger compared to the boy who once swore he’d rather die than lose me.
I swallowed the hot tears in my throat. "My disease flared up because of you, Julian."
Back when we started our tiny tech startup, I worked like a dog. By day, I pitched to cold clients in the rain; by night, I maxed out credit cards to buy dinners for investors, begging for a chance.
Most days, my stomach held nothing but cheap whiskey and leftover bread.
At our lowest, we couldn't even afford a sixty-dollar motel room. We got kicked out into the freezing winter night, almost sleeping under a bridge with the homeless.
I used to be an athlete. By the end of that year, walking up a flight of stairs left me gasping for air.
My body collapsed, and on the morning we were supposed to get married, I coughed up blood and ended up in the ICU.
Ten years of agony. Every single day bought with pain.
Julian rubbed his face in frustration, looking thoroughly disgusted.
"I knew you were going to bring that up again. I am so sick of hearing it..."
"Maya, I’m grateful to you! That’s why I’ve never even thought about divorcing you! Don't you get that?!"
"The clinic called me five minutes ago about the unpaid balance. If this whole tantrum is about money, cut the crap."
He pulled out his phone and transferred a million dollars straight to my account, raising an arrogant eyebrow.
"There. Satisfied? See? I still love you."
Love?
He thought betrayal could be wiped clean with a bank transfer?
A million screams caught in my throat, but my body had no strength left.
Staring at his conceited face, I whispered, "Don't you feel even a tiny shred of guilt?"
Julian grabbed my limp hand, his eyes softening into a practiced show of affection.
"Vivian has stage-four cancer, Maya. She doesn't have long to live anyway."
"I promise you, you’ll always be the only Mrs. Miller."
"Once you’re fully recovered, I’ll take you on a world tour. How does that sound?"
How did the man I adored for ten years turn into such rotting garbage?
A wave of violent nausea hit me. The pain I’d been suppressing tore through my chest, making my heart flutter erratically. I clamped a hand over my mouth, dry-heaving.
Before the blackness swallowed me whole, I felt the car accelerate, and Julian’s hand patted my back with patronizing comfort.
"Look at yourself, Maya. No one else in this world would ever want you."When I opened my eyes, Julian was nowhere to be found.
Looking at the digital calendar on the wall, four days had passed. I must have been pulled out of the ICU again.
Just as I managed to sit up, the room door pushed open.
It was Vivian.
She placed an elaborate basket of pink carnations on my nightstand, smiling like a sweet angel. "Mrs. Miller, I hope you have a speedy recovery."
With her delicate features and baby-doll charm, she was exactly the type Julian loved to spoil.
I didn't want to see a young girl throw her life away, so I gave her a flat look. "Do you know who paid for those flowers?"
Vivian’s smile turned sharp. "My boyfriend did. And I know you’re just his old business partner."
I gave a cold smirk. "He’s in his thirties and tells you he’s single? And you actually believe that?"
Her sweet mask slipped, replaced by sneering contempt.
"Listen, lady. I was trying to be polite, but you’re pushing it."
"The other day you faked an episode just to drag him to your bedside. Who do you think you are? You’re way too old to play the helpless damsel."
I frowned. "I’m his legal wife. Don't let him play you."
Vivian let out an obnoxious laugh. "Julian is a billionaire bachelor. That doesn't mean you get to daydream about being married to him! Get real!"
"I have no reason to lie to you," I said calmly. "You have your whole life ahead of you. Why throw it away on a cheater who doesn't even love you?"
To my surprise, Vivian’s eyes gleamed with pure ambition.
"So what? The only real side chick is the woman who isn't loved anymore."
"Look at you, you’re practically a corpse. Even if you were his wife once, have some dignity and step aside. Stop bleeding his money dry just to keep yourself breathing!"
I choked on my breath. "You—!"
Vivian sneered, sweeping the flower basket off the table. It crashed to the floor, petals scattering everywhere.
"If I knew you were this pathetic, I wouldn't have bothered pretending."
"If he actually cared about you, do you think he’d be sleeping in my bed? You think this started yesterday? We’ve been together since last Christmas!"
"You can’t compete with me, grandma."
With a flip of her hair, she strutted out.
I sat frozen in the sterile room.
Last Christmas.
The exact day Julian broke his promise and skipped our tenth wedding anniversary.
So every time he sent me a lavish bouquet to apologize, he was coming straight out of her bed.
The weekly flowers weren't romantic gestures. They were the cheap crumbs of his guilty conscience.
My hands shook as I pulled open the nightstand drawer.
Six months. Twenty-four weeks. Twenty-four bouquets. Every time they withered, I had carefully peeled off the florist tags, tucking them away like precious treasures.
I thought we had forever ahead of us. I thought one day, when we were old and gray, I’d pull these out to show him: *Look how much you loved me.*All along, my romantic keepsakes were just receipts of his infidelity.
Whenever I told him I loved the arrangements, what was he thinking?
*Maya is so damn easy to fool.*
After Vivian drew the battle lines, she didn't waste a second.
Whenever Julian came to sit by my bed, her FaceTime calls would ring right on cue, giggling about a new lingerie haul she wanted him to see.
If calls didn't pull him away, she’d conveniently "trip" down the stairs, showing up at the hospital with a sprained ankle, sobbing until Julian scooped her into his arms to soothe her.
Behind my back, they were already sharing dreams, hobbies, and futures.
I watched with my own eyes as the lust in Julian’s gaze turned into tender affection. Real love.
I cried, I screamed, but in every tug-of-war, I lost.
Julian would only brush me off: "Maya, she has terminal cancer. She doesn't have much time."
I stared at his familiar face, desperately trying to find a trace of the boy who once wept over my bruised hands.
Whenever he occasionally brought up our sweet past, it felt like swallowing crushed glass mixed with sugar. I used those scraps of memories to patch up my shredded marriage.
Until one afternoon, Julian stormed into my room, his face dark as thunder.
He lit a cigarette, the smoke burning my lungs. "Did you send goons to trash Vivian’s shop?"
I coughed, confused. "I don't know what you’re talking about."
Julian paced furiously.
"You think she wouldn't tell me?! If I hadn't dropped by, I wouldn't have known her shop was vandalized, with 'WHORE' spray-painted across her walls!"
"Her body is already giving out! How could you push her like this?! You’re both women—how can you be so damn malicious?!"
The realization hit me instantly. Vivian staged the whole thing to force Julian’s hand.
"I didn't do it," I said flatly.
"Stop lying! Who else would do this besides you?!"
Enraged, Julian lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face.
*Smack.*
"You’ve been praying for her to drop dead, haven't you?! I saw your search history on our shared cloud account!"
Right. Back when we loved each other without reservations, we shared everything—our food, our bank accounts, our digital logins.
During this stay, I indeed searched dozens of times: *Life expectancy for cancer patients.*
Except it had nothing to do with Vivian.
Ignoring the burning sting on my cheek, I reached up and pulled off my wig, exposing my patchy, thinning scalp.
"I’m the one with cancer, Julian."
If he still gave a damn, he would pull me into his arms like he did ten years ago and tell me he’d fix it.
This was his very last chance.
Julian stared at my bald head, stunned. But then, a flicker of raw disgust crossed his eyes.
No heartbreak. No terror. No remorse.
He simply scoffed, "Maya, you’re not a kid anymore. Faking terminal illness just to play jealous mind games? That’s disgusting."
*Disgusting.*
In that single second, I buried ten years of love into the dirt.
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
- Search this code in the NovelMaster app:
543127Open NovelMaster → Search code → Find the title