In my quest for revenge, I married my boyfriend's uncle.

I'm Zenobia Smith, and I met York Wales five years ago.

It was a typical college day when I first saw him-standing under the sun in a crisp white shirt.

His clean, perfect image struck me, but it was his eyes-so clear and untainted-that held me.

His family was wealthy, and they had already arranged a marriage for him. But York, in defiance, ran away from his world and chose me.

We struggled after college. No jobs, no money. But we always had each other.

Then, things started to change. A company hired us, and York, after a year and a half, left to start his own business. Despite the hardships, we made it.

For five years, we were inseparable. I believed we'd walk down the aisle one day.

Then came the diagnosis. Acute leukemia.

"I can't afford the treatment, York. My family... they can't help. I'm... I'm too far gone," my voice breaking.

York's face twisted in agony. "I'll do whatever it takes, Zenobia. I'm not losing you. I'll find the money, I swear."

But nothing was enough.

The bills piled up, and we were drowning.

Then came the anonymous envelope, the one with money. I read the handwritten note over and over again, desperately clinging to it like it was my lifeline.

As the pain from treatment consumed me, York stayed by my side.

He was my rock. But soon, I started noticing the change in him.

His phone would ring, and he'd quickly shove it away, muttering about spam.

"York, who was that?" I asked one evening, my voice fragile.

"It's nothing, Zenobia. Just... just some junk mail," he replied, forcing a smile.

I could feel it in my bones. Something was off.

One day, when he stepped out of the room. I unlocked his phone.

The message was clear. "Tonight at 8, Doya Hotel, Room 203, waiting for you."

My heart stopped. The name on the message sent a chill through me-Winnie. His ex-fiancée. The woman his family had chosen for him. I could hardly breathe.

My entire world was crashing down around me.

"York... How could you?"

York had never turned his back on me during my sickness, but maybe the pressure was too much for him. Maybe he needed an outlet-or maybe he just had normal human needs?

I tried to rationalize it, to make excuses for him.

But as the days passed, my mood soured.

My treatment stopped going as smoothly, and I couldn't hide my anger every time he glanced at his phone. Finally, one day, I exploded.

He didn't argue with me.

He just calmly walked out of the room-and he never came back.

In my quest for revenge, I married my boyfriend's uncle.

I'm Zenobia Smith, and I met York Wales five years ago.

It was a typical college day when I first saw him-standing under the sun in a crisp white shirt.

His clean, perfect image struck me, but it was his eyes-so clear and untainted-that held me.

His family was wealthy, and they had already arranged a marriage for him. But York, in defiance, ran away from his world and chose me.

We struggled after college. No jobs, no money. But we always had each other.

Then, things started to change. A company hired us, and York, after a year and a half, left to start his own business. Despite the hardships, we made it.

For five years, we were inseparable. I believed we'd walk down the aisle one day.

Then came the diagnosis. Acute leukemia.

"I can't afford the treatment, York. My family... they can't help. I'm... I'm too far gone," my voice breaking.

York's face twisted in agony. "I'll do whatever it takes, Zenobia. I'm not losing you. I'll find the money, I swear."

But nothing was enough.

The bills piled up, and we were drowning.

Then came the anonymous envelope, the one with money. I read the handwritten note over and over again, desperately clinging to it like it was my lifeline.

As the pain from treatment consumed me, York stayed by my side.

He was my rock. But soon, I started noticing the change in him.

His phone would ring, and he'd quickly shove it away, muttering about spam.

"York, who was that?" I asked one evening, my voice fragile.

"It's nothing, Zenobia. Just... just some junk mail," he replied, forcing a smile.

I could feel it in my bones. Something was off.

One day, when he stepped out of the room. I unlocked his phone.

The message was clear. "Tonight at 8, Doya Hotel, Room 203, waiting for you."

My heart stopped. The name on the message sent a chill through me-Winnie. His ex-fiancée. The woman his family had chosen for him. I could hardly breathe.

My entire world was crashing down around me.

"York... How could you?"

York had never turned his back on me during my sickness, but maybe the pressure was too much for him. Maybe he needed an outlet-or maybe he just had normal human needs?

I tried to rationalize it, to make excuses for him.

But as the days passed, my mood soured.

My treatment stopped going as smoothly, and I couldn't hide my anger every time he glanced at his phone. Finally, one day, I exploded.

He didn't argue with me.

He just calmly walked out of the room-and he never came back.

I began to resist treatment on purpose, refusing to take my medicine. My former doctors and nurses were at their wit's end. At that moment, I just wanted to wait for death.

Then, my new doctor-Woodruff Jenkins-walked into my world.

"Hello, I'm your new doctor, Woodruff Jenkins. Forty-two years old, Cancer sign, no bad habits, I own a house and a car, and after work, I just go home," he introduced himself, his voice casual yet confident.

I thought, What is he doing, giving me his personal details like we're on a blind date? But I couldn't help but notice that his introduction caught my attention.

I began to resist treatment on purpose, refusing to take my medicine. My former doctors and nurses were at their wit's end. At that moment, I just wanted to wait for death.

Then, my new doctor-Woodruff Jenkins-walked into my world.

"Hello, I'm your new doctor, Woodruff Jenkins. Forty-two years old, Cancer sign, no bad habits, I own a house and a car, and after work, I just go home," he introduced himself, his voice casual yet confident.

I thought, What is he doing, giving me his personal details like we're on a blind date? But I couldn't help but notice that his introduction caught my attention.

"I've reviewed your case. There's hope for you. Don't worry, no patient of mine has ever given up on themselves," he said with a reassuring smile like a ray of light cutting through the darkness of my life.

I stared at him, and something about his smile-his eyes-reminded me of York. They were just as clear, just as innocent.

"Medicine is great, but nothing beats the sunshine. Let's go for a walk," his tone gentle but unyielding.

"I'm tired,"

Before I could respond, he signaled the nurse to bring over a wheelchair.

Then, without warning, he swept me into his arms in a princess carry and placed me in the wheelchair.

I was stunned by his suddenness but didn't push him away.

I couldn't help it-there was something about him that reminded me of York.

I began cooperating with my treatment.

Dr. Jenkins would accompany me on walks whenever he had time, and soon, I found myself eagerly awaiting his rounds.

My health improved, and as our bond grew beyond the doctor-patient relationship.

One day, as we sat together, he took my hand and said softly, "I think it's time we take things to the next level. Next week, there's a family gathering. I want to bring you along."

I froze. Is this happening so fast?

Five years with York, and he never once took me to meet his family. But with Woodruff, just three months in, and I was going to meet his parents?

The day of the gathering, Woodruff took me shopping for a red dress. The moment I put it on, I felt like a new person-healthier, more alive.

I was worried about what his family would think if they knew I was sick, but Woodruff had once said, "A firm choice is more important than any romance."

I wasn't sure if I believed in fate, but in that moment, I understood what he meant.

When we arrived at Woodruff's home, my anxiety only grew. The large garden, the mansion, the servants-everything screamed wealth. I walked in with him, my heart pounding.

"The others aren't here yet, we've arrived first. Let's wait for them," Woodruff said, his hand gently guiding me.

"Okay," I whispered, trying to steady myself.

"Sit here. I'll go grab you some fresh juice," he walked toward the kitchen.

As I waited, I noticed the family photos on the mantle above the fireplace. I ran my fingers over them, one by one, until I reached a photo of Woodruff as a child.

He looked so innocent. But then, my eyes froze on one particular picture.

It was a photo of Woodruff with someone else. York.

My heart skipped a beat.

Before I could process the shock, Woodruff came back with the juice.

He saw the blood on my hands, and panic flashed across his face.

"Zenobia! You're bleeding," . He rushed me to the car and sped back to the hospital.

On the way there,my mind racing. How could I have missed this?

Woodruff glanced at me, concern written all over his face. "We'll be at the hospital soon. Where are you hurting?"

"Pull over," I ordered suddenly.

"Zenobia, what's wrong?"

"Stop the car,"

Woodruff pulled over and reached out to touch my head. "What's happening?"

"Why... why do you have a picture with York?"

"He's my nephew. I'm his uncle."

I was stunned.

"You knew about York and me all along?"

"No, not at first," his brow furrowed.

"I didn't know, but then his father mentioned you to me. I felt for you and wanted to help, but I never expected to fall for you. I'm so sorry, Zenobia. I never meant to hide it from you."

He pulled me into an embrace.

"And York... I'm sure you've figured out what happened. He and Winnie, they've been in contact for a while. They were still meeting, going to hotels together."

His words sliced through me like a knife. They'd been together all along.

My heart broke into a thousand pieces. But at that moment, I could feel Woodruff's arms around me-comforting, gentle. He wasn't York. He never would be.

Yet, even in his warmth, I could still see York's face, his eyes, his smile. I wanted to confess my feelings to Woodruff, but every time I saw the care he gave me, my words got stuck.

He was the light in my life now, and I couldn't bear to hurt him.