My Son Died and I Got Cancer, My Husband Regretted It

On the day my son Greyson Mendes was diagnosed with leukemia, I found out I had breast cancer while undergoing bone marrow matching.

My husband, Shawn Mendes, was unreachable by phone, yet on Instagram, he posted a photo with Jennifer Jolie, captioned: [No matter what happens, I'm here.]

Feeling helpless, I called Jennifer, only to have Shawn pick up the phone.

"Jennifer already feels guilty enough for the missing radioactive materials. Do you have to curse our son's illness to provoke her?

"You look so ugly being jealous," he added before abruptly ending the call.

After the call got disconnected, I couldn't get through again.

Ten days later, our son passed away.

With a heavy heart, I buried our son, only to be dragged to the hospital by my mother for chemotherapy.

Shawn rarely called me first.

"Why did you block me? Is our son still having nosebleeds?"

"Shawn, let's get a divorce," I uttered, finding a sudden sense of peace.

Shawn, my admired senior, was the man I had pursued from childhood to adulthood.

From the moment I silently confessed my feelings, I became like a loyal dog to him.

He prepared gifts for Jennifer, and I helped with ideas.

When Jennifer rejected him, I acted silly to make him laugh.

Shawn aimed to study at the same school as Jennifer, so I changed my preferences to follow him.

One night, seeing Jennifer enter a hotel with another man, he drank until he vomited uncontrollably.

In the early hours, I rushed to clean up his mess.

That day, his hand clasped mine as he asked me to marry him.

I had loved Shawn for ten years, so of course, I agreed.

What was being a backup to me?

I was willing to deceive myself, believing he finally saw my worth.

Throughout our eight-year marriage, he was my everything.

I gave Shawn space, never forcing him to do things he disliked.

Even when pregnant and giving birth, with him working overtime, I assured him I had my mother by my side.

Rather than dying on the operating table without seeing him one last time, I feared more that he would have left me, thinking I was a burden and a nuisance.

I could endure such days.

However, since Shawn joined the research lab and became Jennifer's junior, he was out of my control.

Despite it all, I continued to delude myself.

Two months ago, our son had nosebleeds, coinciding with Shawn's research institute meeting. I took our son for a check-up, where he was diagnosed with leukemia.

I had hoped my successful bone marrow match would suffice.

Fortunately, the match was successful.

Unfortunately, my breast tumor was malignant and had spread.

Our son fell ill rapidly, and I comforted him, assuring him his father, like his Superman toy, would come to save him.

I had never been so desperate to find Shawn since our marriage.

I didn't expect him to be a perfect match, but at that moment, both my son and I needed him.

Yet, this time, he believed I was jealous and promptly hung up, playing the vanishing act.

Our son was only six, waiting for his father to come to save him, but in the end, he never showed up.

I couldn't fathom the despair our son felt waiting in vain.

Thinking of this, I hugged our son's favorite toy tightly, feeling a sharp pain in my heart.

As I glanced up, I saw two familiar figures at the clinic's entrance.

Jennifer was pale, clutching her stomach, and Shawn was wearing a pained expression.

"Class four radiation sources won't cause major issues with brief exposure. It's you, suffering from a stomach ache due to anxiety," Shawn remarked.

"Shawn, thank you for being with me these past few days. I don't know how I could have coped without you," Jennifer said, fragile like a swaying gardenia, evoking sympathy.

As Shawn reached out to comfort her, his gaze fell upon me not far away.