The girl Jordan Bell sponsored was diagnosed with cancer.

She said no one loved her and she'd rather die. Jordan promised to marry her, saying he'd take care of her from now on.

The moment he informed me about the divorce, I was holding a terminal cancer report.

I agreed, but I asked for his uncle's company's newly developed targeted drug in return.

Jordan agreed immediately.

But even after asking him twice, he never brought me the medicine.

Until I showed up on the morgue table, five months pregnant.

As a mortician, he was horrified and in despair. "How is this possible?"

What devastated him even more was knowing that I could have made it until the baby was born. It was his fault for causing both our deaths.

He would live the rest of his life in guilt, but guilt doesn't pay the price.

...

Jordan was a mortician, a sacred and meaningful job. He was usually a gentleman.

Lately, he was so busy that he didn't even realize I was sick and pregnant because the girl he sponsored, Hannah Torres, had fallen ill.

I sat at home, dumbfounded, holding an ultrasound report and a terminal cancer diagnosis.

Not long after, I received a message from Hannah: [Ruby, Jordan isn't coming home tonight.]

Attached was a picture of Jordan sleeping.

I frantically called Jordan, but Hannah answered, "Ruby, I'm sorry, but he's too tired from taking care of me. Let him stay here tonight."

"Hannah, whose call is that?" I heard Jordan's groggy voice as he woke up.

That liar. He used to say he couldn't sleep in any bed other than ours.

Jordan took the phone. "Ruby, hold on."

My voice trembled. "Okay!"

I heard his footsteps moving to another spot. "Ruby, Hannah's not doing well emotionally. She says no one loves her and refuses surgery. We should set a time to finalize the divorce. I want to marry her."

His words struck me like lightning. Tears streamed down my face, one after another.

I tried to keep my voice calm. "Jordan, let's talk in person."

Jordan grew impatient. "I sponsored Hannah, and now I have to take responsibility. She's sick, and it's my duty to care for her. Ruby, can't you just be reasonable and stop competing with someone who's ill?"

I was furious. "Jordan! Why did you get involved with me in the first place? Why didn't you just marry her? And I'm sick too! I need care too!"

Jordan found me unreasonable. "Hannah's sick, and now you're sick too? What a coincidence. I just wanted to comfort her so she'd go through with the surgery. No matter what, we're getting divorced. Name your terms, and we'll meet at the civil office on Friday!"

I wiped my face, feeling the wet, cold tears.

I gently rubbed my belly, reassuring myself, "Don't be scared, baby. Even though your dad doesn't want us, I do. You have to grow strong."

The doctor told me that a pharmaceutical company recently developed a new targeted drug that could ease my condition, giving me more time to live. It was enough time for me to give birth.

Coincidentally, this company is run by Jordan's uncle.

I agreed to divorce Jordan, but only on the condition that he ensures my supply of medication.

He agreed, but he didn't even ask why I needed the medication.

I plan to have this baby. The Bell family is so wealthy, there's no way they couldn't afford to raise a child.

Jordan was a well-known young master in Perrim. No one in his family understood why he wanted to become a mortician, but I was the only one who supported his dream.

Back then, he was willing to sever ties with the Bell family to become a mortician.

I was there by his side through those tough times. The irony is that now he's willing to give up his dream for Hannah.

I wrote in my will, carefully and deliberately, that my final wish is for Jordan to personally handle my burial.

I hope there is a soul after death, so I can watch Jordan as he sees my body lying in front of him.

My body was deteriorating rapidly.

The doctor told me to have the medication sent immediately, or I might not survive until the baby is born.

I frantically called Jordan, hoping he'd bring me the medication.

But all I got was a cold, automated voice on the other end of Jordan's phone.

Finally, he answered, "Ruby, will you ever stop? I'm helping Hannah try on wedding dresses!"

I couldn't hold back anymore. I begged him, "Jordan, I'm really sick. Please, bring me the medication quickly, or I'll die..."

Jordan didn't even let me finish before hanging up.

"Trying on wedding dresses? I've never even worn one in my life!"

When Jordan and I got married, he had just been kicked out by the Bell family, and we had nothing. We couldn't even afford rings, so we used keychains instead.

The marriage certificate we got for $9.99 really only cost $9.99!

"Baby, stay strong with Mommy. We just need to hold on for two more days until Friday. By then, we'll get the medication!"

On Friday, I put on some lipstick and heavy blush, hoping to make myself look healthier.

Jordan arrived alone, looking anxious. "Ruby, did you bring all your documents?"

"Where's the medication?"

Jordan snapped. "You're not even sick! Why would I give you the medication? It's for someone who really needs it. The doctor said it'll help Hannah get better."

I lost it, screaming hysterically, "Don't you realize I'll die without it? I'll die without that medication!"

Jordan frowned. "Ruby, stop being dramatic. I only see her as a sister. Once she's better, we'll get remarried. I'm supporting her, so I have a responsibility to her!"

I felt deeply disappointed as I listened to his excuses.

Who "rescues" someone by sharing a bed with them?!

Jordan is a light sleeper. There's no way he didn't notice Hannah kissing him while he slept.

What kind of "sister" kisses her "brother" on the lips?!

Hannah sent me every single photo of this, and Jordan allowed it all.

Jordan wanted the best of both worlds, but life doesn't work that way.

"You want me to marry? Fine, I'll marry. You want me to divorce? Fine, I'll divorce. But I won't give you what you want so easily!"

"Jordan, just leave! Without the medication, there's no way I'm divorcing you!"

I turned to leave. Jordan tried to grab my arm, but the civil registry staff stopped him.

"Hey! Sir, if she doesn't want a divorce, you can't force her. Why don't you two go home and think it over? Both parties have to agree for a divorce. We can't stamp your papers unless you both agree…"