“You are dying. I’m so sorry to tell you this.”

Dr. Romano’s voice echoed in my ears.

I stared at him, frozen, unable to process what he had just said.

“W-What…?”

“And… I’m afraid it’s extremely rare and aggressive. There’s a high chance… you may not have much time left.”

A crushing weight sank into my chest, stealing the air from my lungs. My mind went blank. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t even react. I just… sat there. Numb.

“You need to tell your husband,” Dr. Romano added. “If you want, I can call him for you.”

I shook my head slowly, finding my voice. “No… I’ll tell him myself. Thank you, Doctor.”

I walked out of the hospital like a ghost. I didn’t remember how I got home. All I knew was that my world had tilted, and nothing would ever be the same again.

For the past few weeks, I’d been feeling strange…dizzy, weak, and fatigued. I thought maybe it was just stress, maybe overwork. But now I knew the truth. My body was betraying me, killing me from the inside.

When I reached the house, I hoped Lucas would be there. I needed him. I needed his arms, his comfort. I needed to feel that I wasn't alone.

“Lucas?” I called out, stepping inside. “Where are you? I… I have something important to tell you.”

I turned a corner just as he rushed past me, not even sparing a glance. His expression was tense, like he was distracted.

“Lucas, wait!” I said, reaching out for his arm. “Please, I need to—”

“Not now, Priscilla,” he snapped. “I have something to take care of.”

My heart dropped. “What? What could be more important right now?”

He stopped at the door, barely turning his head. “Jemma’s in the hospital! She might be dying! She needs me!”

And just like that, he left. No questions. No concern. Just walked out the door for her.

Jemma.

The first woman he married.

So, she’s back…on the very day I found out I was dying.

“Priscilla, maybe you should just rest at home,” Ava said gently, placing a hand on my arm. “Stop working for now. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

I let out a weak cough, then shook my head. “It’s okay,” I told her, forcing a small smile. “I can still manage. I’m fine, really.”

But the truth was…I wasn’t. I was far from fine.

That day, I tried to go on with my usual routine, pretending everything was normal. I didn’t want anyone worrying about me. But the moment I stood up from my desk, the room spun violently. My knees buckled beneath me. Everything went dark as I collapsed to the floor, completely drained and breathless.

My body had given up. I don’t know how that even happened.

Ava and the others rushed me to the hospital.

I was dying.

Later that evening, I went home, determined to tell Lucas everything. I needed him to know. But before I could get the words out… he left. He didn’t even let me explain. He just ran… because Jemma needed him.

Jemma. The first woman he married.

And I knew her.

She was my classmate back in college. They were sweethearts, deeply in love, and I… I liked Lucas even back then. But I never interfered. They had found something special, and I respected that. I didn't want to be the reason their love fell apart.

Eventually, Jemma left him after years of being together. She divorced Lucas for reasons I never understood, and it left him completely devastated.

When Lucas and I crossed paths again, our story began. He showed me a kind of love that healed parts of me I didn’t know were broken. He made me feel special. Cherished.

“I love you, Priscilla,” he once said, kneeling with a ring in his hand. “I’ll do everything for you. You’ve held together the broken pieces in me. I can’t imagine life without you.”

I was floating that day…completely in love, completely his.

But somewhere along the way, everything shifted.

Lucas became distant. I thought maybe it was work stress, after all, he ran a company, and I didn’t want to be a burden. So I found my own job, away from his business, just to prove I could stand on my own.

We both became too busy for each other.

And now… Jemma is back.

Despite being sick and struggling to breathe, I followed Lucas. I needed to see the truth for myself. I drove to where he went, coughing and barely holding on.

Then I saw his car, parked right outside the same hospital I had just left.

I rushed inside.

And there he was… with Jemma.

“She’s dying, Mr. Gray,” said Dr. Romano—the same doctor who diagnosed me. “I’m sorry to tell you this.”

Jemma looked up at Lucas, her eyes glistening with tears. “Lucas, please… don’t leave me.”

My breath caught the moment he reached for her hand and gently caressed her cheek. “I won’t leave you,” he whispered. “I’ll stay here for you.”

And just like that, everything inside me shattered all over again.

I rushed out of the hospital, barely able to see through the tears streaming down my face. My chest ached, and I was sobbing so hard I couldn’t even breathe properly. The pain was too much, it drowned every thought, every ounce of strength I had left.

“Hey! Watch where you're going!” someone yelled after I bumped into them, but I barely registered it.

“I’m s-sorry,” I mumbled, my voice cracking as I kept walking. I was a mess—emotionally wrecked and completely shattered. My heart felt like it had been crushed into tiny pieces, and there was no putting it back together.

I never thought Lucas could do this to me. I should’ve seen the signs. The way he grew distant, how his attention slowly slipped away. The way he barely had time for me anymore. And now I know why. It’s because of her…Jemma.

The realization hit me like a slap in the face.

When I got home, I went straight to our room and collapsed on the bed. I cried, God, I cried until my throat went dry and my chest hurt from sobbing. I couldn’t believe the man I loved was slowly slipping away from me. And the worst part? I had to watch it happen, helplessly.

Night fell, and finally, Lucas came home.

I wiped my tears and tried to gather myself. I didn’t want him to see how broken I was. But the puffiness of my eyes gave me away.

“Hey, I’m home,” he greeted.

I met him at the door, forcing a small smile. But I didn’t say a word.

“What happened to you?” he asked, noticing my red eyes. “Why do you look like you've been crying?”

I shook my head quickly. “I was just watching a movie,” I lied. “It got to me.”

“Oh,” he said, brushing it off. “You shouldn’t cry over things like that. Movies aren’t even real.”

His words stung. He didn’t know the real reason for my tears, and maybe he didn’t care enough to ask again.

I swallowed hard and asked the question I’d been holding in my chest.

“How’s Jemma?”

He paused.

Then he turned to me, his expression suddenly serious. “About that… I’ll be away more often from now on.”

“Why?” I asked, already fearing the answer. My heart pounded in my chest.

“Jemma needs me,” he said softly. “You know our history. But don’t worry, I don’t love her anymore. I love you.”

‘Then why her?! You’re leaving me behind, Lucas!’ I wanted to scream.

“She’s dying,” he added.

‘I’m dying too!’ I badly want to tell him, but I couldn’t…I can’t.

“She has no one else. I’m the only one she can turn to.”

He kissed my forehead gently. “Let’s rest,” he whispered, taking my hand as we lay in bed.

But that night, I couldn’t sleep.

Days passed, and Lucas kept his promise, always with Jemma, while I was left behind, slowly dying.

Until the day I visited Dr. Romano for a check-up.

He looked at me with quiet concern. “Ma’am Priscilla,” he said, “your case is worsening. You might not survive past this week.”

And just like that, the world around me collapsed.

“You’ll need a blood transfusion,” Dr. Romano said carefully. “Your condition is serious. Your body doesn’t have enough healthy red blood cells to carry sufficient oxygen to your tissues. That’s why you’re always tired, always weak.”

I sat there quietly, my hands trembling in my lap.

“You need a blood donor, someone who can potentially save your life,” he continued. “Does your husband know about this? Sir Lucas? I can run tests to see if he’s a compatible donor.”

I bit my lower lip at the mention of Lucas.

“No,” I admitted quietly. “I haven’t told him yet.”

“What?” Dr. Romano frowned. “You need to tell him. He has the right to know what you’re going through.”

I looked down, avoiding his gaze. My heart was already carrying too much.

“He’s here, actually,” the doctor added. “He came with his first wife… Miss Jemma.”

His words landed heavily in my chest, a painful reminder of how far I’d drifted from Lucas in his heart.

“He is your husband. He needs to know,” the doctor insisted.

“No,” I whispered, standing up slowly. “It’s okay. I can take care of myself.”

And with that, I turned my back on Dr. Romano and walked out of his office, each step heavier than the last.

Everything around me felt like a blur. My body felt drained, as if the little life I had left was slipping out through my fingertips. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do anymore. I didn’t even know if I had the strength to keep going.

When I got home, I wasn’t expecting anything unusual. I just wanted to lie down and breathe.

But the moment I opened the door, my breath hitched in my throat.

Lucas was there.

And beside him, like a scene from a nightmare, was Jemma.

“W-What’s going on here?” I asked, trying to steady my voice, but the tremble betrayed me.

Lucas stood up and approached me, guilt written all over his face.

“Finally, you’re home,” he said, his tone soft. “I’m sorry this is so sudden.”

I looked between him and Jemma, my mind was racing with questions.

“But Jemma… she’ll be staying with us,” he continued, trying to explain. “She has nowhere else to go.”

My heart stopped. My world tilted. The woman who had already taken so much from me, my husband’s time, his affection, his presence, was now going to take space in our home too?

I felt like screaming.

But I couldn’t. I was too tired, too broken.

I forced myself to nod faintly, but inside, I was crumbling.

Lucas didn’t know. He didn’t know I was dying.

And now, I wasn’t even sure if he’d care once he did.

The road of my suffering began the moment Jemma moved into our home.

I later found out that her cosmetic brand had gone bankrupt. Life hadn’t been kind to her; she was struggling, truly drowning.

And then came the bigger revelation—Jemma was sick. Not just any illness, but a rare disease that was slowly taking her life away. She came back here after leaving Lucas.

Lucas told me he couldn't bear to leave her. He said Jemma was going through so much, and he was the only one she could turn to.

As if that made it okay to push me aside.

Now, today of all days, I’m coughing violently, my chest aching with every breath. I feel like I’m burning up. Fever is taking over my body, and it’s a struggle just to keep myself standing. Every inch of me feels like it’s about to collapse.

“Priscilla, can you get me some fresh water from downstairs?” Jemma's voice pierced the room. “I need water. I just finished eating.”

I wanted to scream. Lucas saw me, saw the way I was coughing and trembling, barely able to stand. But he said nothing. Nothing.

“Priscilla, did you hear me?” she called out again, louder this time.

I clenched my jaw. I wanted to yell, ‘Do you not see what’s happening to me right now?’ But instead, I shook my head, swallowed the pain, and forced myself up.

I went to the kitchen and got the water. Lucas, as usual, had an excuse, he had a call to take. “Just bring it to her along with her meds,” he said casually, as if I didn’t matter.

I gripped the glass and her medication tightly, my knuckles whitening. He didn’t know, I had my own meds hidden from him. Pills I took in secret because I knew he wouldn't care to ask. Because how could I tell him when it’s so clear he cares more about Jemma than me?

He doesn’t even ask. Doesn’t even pretend to care. Or maybe he’s just pretending not to see…blind to my pain.

I headed to Jemma’s room, but before I could knock, I heard her voice on the phone.

“My plan is working. Don’t worry, I’ll take him back. As soon as I get everything I want…” she paused, then laughed. A cold, heartless laugh, full of life, not someone who’s dying.

I must be hallucinating. I shook the thought away and knocked again. “Jemma, here’s your water.”

“Just come in,” she called out sweetly.

I entered the room and walked toward her…but then everything spun. My body gave in. I lost my balance and fell forward, the glass slipping from my hand and shattering across the floor.

“Oh my God, what are you doing? You’re so clumsy!” she screamed.

Lucas rushed in, alarmed. “What’s going on in here?!” he shouted, eyes darting between us.

“Are you okay?” Lucas immediately rushed to Jemma’s side as she let out a faint cough, her body appearing weak on the bed. She looked up at him with teary eyes, her voice trembling.

“I’m fine… I just got hit by some broken glass. It was your wife’s fault,” she whispered, gesturing weakly toward me.

Lucas turned his eyes toward me, his expression cold. “Priscilla, you should watch where you're going! You should be more careful whenever you’re near her!”

He raised his voice, and it stung deeper than any wound ever could.

I stood up in silence, trying to clean the shattered glass on the floor. As I reached down, a sharp piece sliced my finger. Blood trickled down my hand, but I ignored it.

Lucas’s face softened just for a moment. “Wait… Are you hurt?”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.” I cleaned up the mess and left the room quietly, unable to hold back the tears anymore.

That day, I nearly collapsed. My vision blurred, and my body begged me to stop. But I forced myself to move. Not in front of Lucas. I couldn’t let him see me fall…because if he did, he wouldn’t care anyway.

That day, I knew… he truly didn’t care about me anymore.

Days passed, and my condition only worsened. I didn’t even know if I could survive the week. But Lucas’s attention remained fixed on Jemma. Always her.

“Priscilla… you look thinner,” he asked one day, a hint of concern in his voice.

“I haven’t had much appetite,” I replied simply.

My body was giving up. I had stopped taking the medicine Dr. Romano gave me. And despite knowing I had a fever, Lucas still treated me like a servant, asking me to cook and run errands for Jemma.

And Jemma? She carried on like nothing was wrong. A part of me started to suspect she was faking her illness. But I had no proof, until one day.

Lucas told me to bring food to Jemma. As I approached her room, I froze. She was standing, tall and strong, speaking cheerfully on the phone.

No sign of illness. None.

“I know he’s falling for me again,” she laughed. “He thinks I’m sick. I only faked it because I couldn’t stand seeing him married to someone else.”

My hand trembled. I dropped what I was carrying and stormed in.

“You!” I screamed. “How dare you lie like this?!”

She jumped, eyes wide. “How did you get in—?”

I slapped her hard across the face. Just then, Lucas burst into the room.

“Priscilla!” he shouted, rushing forward and pushing me. I hit the wall, stunned.

“Why would you slap her?! She’s sick!”

“No, Lucas, she’s lying! She’s not sick!” I cried.

“She’s manipulating you! You don’t even love her anymore, right?!”

Lucas stared at me. I tried to speak again, but another cough choked my words.

“Lucas, help me!” Jemma feigned her sickness again as she dropped to the ground, crying.

Lucas glared at me the moment he saw that Jemma was hurt.

“I’ve had enough,” he said coldly. “You’re the one pretending now, aren’t you?”

He turned to Jemma. “I got you.”

And at that moment, I knew, I no longer had a place in Lucas’s life.

That night, I packed my things.