When I found out about the brain tumor, I couldn't help but wonder what would happen to Princeton if I died. Back then, I hoped he would remarry someone who loved him just as much as I did. Even if it were Zuri Morgan, I thought I could accept it. But now, I've changed my mind.

Zuri had added me on WhatsApp before coming back to the country, her words laced with thinly veiled threats. I kept asking myself why. Why could others find happiness, but not me? Why did Zuri manage to take everything I ever wanted—my childhood, my mother, my husband—leaving me with nothing? Well, not entirely nothing. I had Skyla, but now she's gone too.

So I started journaling, documenting the mundanity of each day alongside my rapidly declining health. The illness worsened quickly. Insomnia became my constant companion, and the piercing headaches felt like thousands of needles stabbing me. I had no idea how much longer I could endure.

I still cooked for Princeton every day, listened as he talked about work—how busy he was with projects and the conflicts among colleagues. Sometimes, when he said something amusing, I'd chuckle. Just like old times, as if nothing had changed. But I knew everything had changed. Princeton didn’t notice that I hadn't taken a bite. I was in too much pain to eat. Even a single mouthful made me nauseous, my hands starting to tremble. I struggled to appear normal, calmly making my way to the bathroom.

I wanted to reach for the painkillers, but instead, I collapsed to the floor, unconscious. I don’t know how long I was out before I forced myself to stand. When I finally emerged, Princeton was ready to leave.

“Adrian, once I'm done with work, let's take a vacation to the countryside," he said.

I smiled and agreed. Going on a holiday with Princeton was my wish; there’s a legend there about stones that bless couples with lifelong love. I had casually mentioned the beauty of the countryside once, saying it was perfect for a getaway, but he was always too busy. Work always came first, leaving no time for vacations. Now, he brought it up.

As he was leaving, he added, “There’s a dinner party tomorrow. Are you free?”

I paused, my hands still holding the dishes, and thought of how frail I looked. I declined, “I’m not available.”

Princeton didn’t press further and hurried out. As the door clicked shut, I recalled Zuri's morning update on Facebook—she was picking out a suit, and Princeton's silhouette was visible in the mirror. Zuri, freshly back from abroad, wouldn’t miss any chance to expand her network, and Princeton was eagerly assisting her. It was clear he had already promised to take her, yet he still pretended to consider me by asking. He must have been certain I would refuse.

Princeton probably never imagined I would show up at this gala.

The music flowed smoothly, and the venue was filled with the elite, all dressed in elegant Victorian-style gowns and tuxedos, engaged in lively conversations. There I was, feeling like an outsider, completely out of my element amidst the gathering's opulence.

Princeton was easy to spot. After trailing behind him for what felt like ages, I could recognize him instantly. He wore a sharp black tuxedo, with Zuri on his arm, her hair cascading like silk, stealing the spotlight.

I stood quietly, watching them laugh and talk as if they were the couple truly meant for each other. Even though I had expected this, the pain in my chest felt like it was being carved by a knife.

It was as if my heart was filled with icy spikes, numbingly cruel.

I did nothing but watch them, arm in arm, effortlessly greeting every guest. It wasn't until someone gestured toward my direction while speaking to Princeton that he turned to look at me.

I wore a Victorian-style evening gown that hung loosely on me, having grown too thin for it. My complexion was pale, and my cheekbones more pronounced—far too plain compared to Zuri, not fitting for such a gathering.

The moment he saw me, Princeton's expression shifted dramatically. He let go of Zuri's arm and started walking toward me. Perhaps he wanted to explain, to assure me there was no misunderstanding. Or maybe he intended to ask me to leave for Zuri's sake.

It didn't matter anymore.

I gave him a soft smile, then turned and walked away. The last flicker of warmth within me was completely extinguished...

Driving back home, tears blurred my vision and streamed down my face.

Haunting images raced through my mind: Skyla's blood-soaked body, my mother's departure, and Zuri Morgan’s triumphant smirk.

I felt like a volcano on the brink of eruption, pressure building inside me. Once home, I flung the birthday gift I had prepared for Princeton onto the floor, watching it shatter into pieces.

Anger surged through me, planting seeds of resentment deep in my heart. The wedding photo on the wall, where I seemed to be the only one smiling, mocked my failures and made me feel utterly foolish.

I grabbed a kitchen knife and thrust it down, the sharp blade slicing between us.

It tore everything apart, mirroring how our relationship had become irreparably shattered. Madness swept over me, and I dragged the knife across my arm with force.

Crimson drops splattered onto the floor, a sharp pain shooting through me, but it still felt insufficient.

As I contemplated cutting deeper, my gaze fell upon Skyla's photograph, his joyful smile beaming back at me.

In that moment, my heart wavered, my hand trembling with indecision over whether to continue or to let go.

In a haze, I imagined Skyla running towards me, arms wide open, sweetly calling for his mom.

Ultimately, I chose to set the knife down.

Skyla was always so perceptive; from the moment he joined our family, he sensed the tension between Princeton and me.

Even at his young age, he tried to mend our relationship, never giving up, even when faced with Princeton's cold demeanor.

Looking at Skyla’s photo, the turmoil within me finally settled.

Self-harm offered no relief, only leaving a scar that would never truly heal.