Seven years into my marriage, I was diagnosed with cancer. After another coughing fit, I collapsed at home, blood staining my lips. That very evening, Liam walked in, holding the woman he’d lost and just found again, his first love, Serena. He kicked open my hospital room door with a violent crash. He shoved a kidney donation consent form directly into my hand. “Serena’s condition can’t wait. You’re young, you’ll recover quickly. I’m begging you.” “Don’t worry, I’ll cover all the surgery costs, and I’ll take care of you afterward.” I didn’t cry out in pain. My hand fumbled, shakily signing my name on the paper. The nurses outside looked at me with disdain. “No wonder she holds her position as Mrs. [Liam’s Last Name]. She’d even give her life for him. Who else could compare?” Liam gently held Serena in his arms, tossing a line at me without even looking back: “After you’re discharged, I’ll take you to Switzerland to see the snow-capped mountains. Isn’t that what you always wanted?” He had no idea my body couldn’t handle the surgery anymore. I was destined not to make it to that day.
On our seventh wedding anniversary, I received my late-stage lung cancer diagnosis. “Ms. [Aria’s Last Name], based on the test results, you’re seven weeks pregnant.” The doctor’s voice seemed to drift from a far-off place. “However, given your current condition, you must begin chemotherapy immediately.” I clutched the diagnosis in my hand, unable to stop myself from asking, “What if… what if I want to keep this baby?” The doctor pushed up his glasses, his tone heavy. “The cancer cells have already spread. If you don’t get immediate treatment, your survival period might not exceed six months.” “And chemotherapy drugs could cause fetal deformities or even death.” I whispered, “So, if the baby lives, I have to die?” “Ms. [Aria’s Last Name], I advise you to terminate the pregnancy as soon as possible.” The doctor’s voice was tinged with professional sympathy. “You’re still young. Once your condition stabilizes…” I didn’t hear the rest of what he said. Seven years. Liam and I had longed for this child for seven whole years. Every negative pregnancy test felt like it was mocking my foolish hopes. Now it was finally here, but it had to be my killer. As I walked out of the hospital, I touched my abdomen, making a decision. I was going to tell Liam the good news. Maybe this child could save our increasingly cold marriage. Maybe, just maybe, he’d hold me tight like he did seven years ago, saying, “Aria, don’t be scared, I’m here.” The villa was empty. Liam wasn’t back again. I had grown used to it. Ever since Serena returned three months ago, he rarely stayed overnight at home. I changed into his favorite white dress and began preparing our anniversary dinner. Candlelight, red wine, his favorite steak. I wrote “Happy 7th Anniversary” on the cake, then sat at the dining table, waiting for him. My phone screen lit up. It was a video from an unknown number. The moment I opened it, my blood froze. Fireworks bloomed in the night sky, forming the letters “AL forever.” That was our special fireworks display, the one he designed for me when Liam and I got married. AL, for Aria and Liam, our initials. But now, standing under the fireworks was Serena, Liam leaning in to kiss her forehead. The video ended on Serena’s smug, triumphant smile. “Aria, did you really think what you stole could ever truly be yours?” “Take a good look, see who he truly loves.” My phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. A metallic taste rose in my throat. I stumbled, grabbing the dining table, and a mouthful of fresh blood splattered onto the pristine white cake. In the last second before darkness claimed me, I seemed to hear Liam, seven years ago, whispering in my ear. “Aria, in this life, I’ll only set off fireworks for you.”
The ceiling swayed in my vision, the antiseptic stinging my nostrils. I blinked, the metallic taste of blood still lingering in my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My hand unconsciously went to my abdomen. It was still flat, yet it already held the life I’d yearned for seven years. The ward door suddenly kicked open, slamming against the wall with a thunderous bang. I jumped, my IV tube swaying violently. Liam strode in, his suit as crisp as if he’d just left a board meeting. In his arms, Serena, like a lazy cat, was wearing that Chanel dress I’d seen in a magazine last week. “Finally awake.” Liam’s voice was edged with impatience. “I’ve waited three hours for you.” My fingernails dug into my palms. Three hours? I’d been unconscious for a whole day and night. Serena peeked out from his arm, her lips slightly pouted. “Liam, it smells awful in here. I’m getting dizzy.” Liam immediately clutched her tighter, pulling out a delicate small bottle from his pocket and placing it at her nose. “Peppermint essential oil. Just sniff it.” I watched silently, like a surreal play unfolding before me. The man who once took an entire day off because of my period cramps was now carefully attending to someone else. Liam turned to me, suddenly pulling a document from his briefcase. “Aria, Serena has kidney failure and needs a transplant.” “The matching results show you’re the most suitable donor.” The document was shoved into my hand. I looked down at the words ‘Living Kidney Donation Consent Form’ and suddenly wanted to laugh. “She’s young and afraid of pain.” Liam’s voice softened. It was the first time today he’d used that tone with me. “You’ve always been strong, and you recover quickly.” A tear splattered onto the signature line, blurring a small patch. I looked up at Liam. His brows were slightly furrowed, but his gaze was fixed on Serena. His fingers gently ran through her long hair. “Pen.” I reached out, my voice so hoarse it didn’t sound like my own. Liam visibly froze, as if he hadn’t expected me to agree so readily. He hastily pulled out his fountain pen and handed it to me. Our wedding anniversary was still engraved on it. I shakily signed my name, each stroke like I was personally burying my own love. After signing, I quickly tucked the cancer diagnosis under my pillow. Liam visibly relaxed, a long-lost tenderness appearing on his face. “Thank you. I’ll cover all the surgery costs, and afterward… I’ll take care of you.” What generous charity. I turned my face away, looking out the window. The sun was still so bright, shining on the small wildflowers on the windowsill. “After you’re discharged, I’ll take you to Switzerland to see the snow-capped mountains.” He continued, his tone lighter now. “Didn’t you always want to go?” My heart clenched violently. It was something we promised during our honeymoon. To go to Switzerland together on our seventh anniversary. He remembered after all. But now the promise sounded so bitterly ironic. “Liam…” Serena suddenly cut him off in a delicate voice, “It’s so stuffy in here, I feel sick…” Liam’s face instantly changed. He scooped her up in his arms. “We’re going back right now.” He turned to leave, then paused. “The surgery is scheduled for next Wednesday. Get some good rest these next few days.” The ward door closed again, his footsteps fading away. “Tsk tsk, how impressive.” The nurses’ whispers drifted from the doorway. “No wonder she can be Mrs. [Liam’s Last Name]. She’d even give her life for him.” I pulled the blanket up over my face, finally letting the tears flow freely.
The next day, I found the doctor again. “Ms. [Aria’s Last Name], are you sure you want to sign this ‘Consent to Forgo Treatment’ form?” The doctor’s pen hovered above the paper, his eyes behind his glasses showing confusion. I slowly nodded. “Given your current physical condition, a kidney transplant is almost equivalent to suicide.” The doctor lowered his voice. “Not to mention keeping the fetus.” “I understand.” I reached out for the fountain pen, saying indifferently, “But the surgery must be done.” “At least wait until the fetus is twelve weeks…” “He can’t wait anymore.” I cut off the doctor, signing my name on the consent form. The ink bled, like a black tear. At the end of the hallway, a long line of women waited at the obstetrics and gynecology clinic, each pregnant woman touching her swollen belly, her face radiating a happiness I dared not dream of. I clutched the examination report, the words ‘Termination of Pregnancy’ stinging my eyes. The operating table was colder than I imagined. As the instruments clinked, I bit down hard on my lip, staring at the ceiling. A sharp pain spread from my lower abdomen to my entire body. My nails dug into my palms, but it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. Tears streamed down my temples into my hairline. I thought of the hope and disappointment with every pregnancy test over the past seven years, and the euphoria of last week when I learned I was pregnant. This child, unwanted by its father, perhaps it was better if it never came into this world. The nurse wiped the blood from between my legs. “You can leave after half an hour of rest.” I nodded mechanically, my hand instinctively touching my flat abdomen. There had once been a heartbeat. Now, only a desolate silence remained. It was dusk when I returned to the villa. I pushed open the door, and a sweet, cloying scent of ginger tea hit me. In the living room, Liam was half-kneeling in front of the sofa, one hand holding a bowl, the other gently stroking Serena’s hair. “Just one more sip, hmm?” His voice was achingly gentle, completely unfamiliar. “Drink it, and your stomach won’t hurt anymore.” Serena was wrapped in *my* wool blanket, her face pale, yet the moment she saw me, a triumphant smile appeared. She deliberately let out a soft moan, burrowing deeper into Liam’s arms. “Liam, it hurts so much…” Only then did Liam notice me standing at the doorway. His gaze lingered on my pale face for a second, then he frowned. “Where have you been? You didn’t answer your phone.” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Was I supposed to say I’d just gone and killed our baby? “Go make Serena a bowl of brown sugar water.” He commanded, then turned to gently coax the woman in his arms, “Aria makes the best brown sugar water, try some.” Aria. He hadn’t called me that in a long time. In the kitchen, I mechanically sliced ginger, the knife blade grazing my fingertips several times. Pains in my abdomen came in waves, cold sweat beaded on my back. When the water boiled, I felt a dizzy spell, grabbing the counter to keep from falling. “Not done yet?” Liam’s voice came from behind me. “Serena’s waiting uncomfortably.”
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