Savannah and I had been married for three years, a time of harmony and love. Three years in, I was diagnosed with a terminal illness—and she found someone else. I tried to hold on, but she mocked me to her friends: “Luke? That boring guy? It’s about time I got rid of him.” Heartbroken, I decided to give up on treatment. In my final days, though, she was there, crying at my bedside like a lost child. I never thought coming home could feel so heavy. When I unlocked the door, any anticipation I had crumbled into dust. “Oh, you’re back already?” Savannah’s voice held no trace of joy, just irritation and shock. She quickly stepped away from him, straightening her disheveled clothes. There was no shame in her eyes, only anger. That man—Justin Thompson—was her new conquest. To her, Justin was everything I wasn’t: younger, wealthier, able to bring her that thrill she craved. Justin had the audacity to adjust his collar with a cocky smirk, strolling past me with the kind of arrogance I’d never had. He was muscular, with a physique that was way more Savannah’s “type.” “I came back early to check in on you,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. Anger made it tremble despite myself. Savannah laughed, a bitter edge in her tone. “Check on me? Why don’t you spend that energy making more money instead? Look at Justin—he’s got it all, and he’s just getting started. And you? You trudge along on that pathetic paycheck of yours. Got the nerve to lecture me, huh?” In that moment, my heart went ice-cold. I looked at her, and for the first time, I really saw her. All the warmth, the promises, they’d evaporated. What was left? Contempt. Betrayal. “So, this is how you really see me.” My voice was low, and I turned to head upstairs. Everything felt like it was plummeting into some frozen, empty abyss. At that moment, my phone chimed. It was a text from the doctor, reminding me of my follow-up appointment tomorrow. The word “terminal” jumped out from the screen. I let out a bitter laugh. Here I was, dying from this illness, and now I’d lost her too. Suddenly, life seemed utterly void of color.
Savannah and I had met on a spring afternoon. Sunlight streamed through fresh green leaves, casting patches of light along a winding path in Willow Brook Park. She was there at the park entrance, wearing a simple white sundress, with a touch of nervousness in her eyes. When I walked up, I saw she was searching for something. “Looking for something? Maybe I can help,” I offered. She turned to me, and in that moment, it felt like all the warmth of spring gathered in her smile. She told me she’d lost a necklace. So, I joined her, searching through flowerbeds and grassy patches until we found it tucked away in a quiet corner. That small encounter sparked something between us, a connection that grew with each conversation. I was captivated by her beauty, and my relentless pursuit won her over. Our meeting felt natural and beautiful, like flowers blossoming in spring. One evening, over a candlelit dinner, Savannah’s face glowed in the warm light. I took her hand, my voice trembling slightly but firm. “Savvy, I want to spend my life with you.” Savannah held my hand tightly and replied, “I want that too, Luke. You mean everything to me.” After we married, our life was sweet and harmonious. Every evening, we’d take walks together, and every weekend, we’d shop for groceries side-by-side. Those days, Savannah seemed so happy in the kitchen, bustling around, finding joy in the everyday. And I loved watching her sleep, calm and peaceful in the morning light. Life went on like that for a few good years, until the weight of reality and temptation slowly began to wear Savannah down.
The morning sun brought no hope, only a cold, unforgiving clarity. Savannah had been out last night, and she hadn’t come back yet. Alone in the kitchen, I shakily peeled a hard-boiled egg, every movement a reminder that my life wasn’t what it used to be. Today’s schedule was blank: no meetings, no lunch dates, just my afternoon check-up at North Ridge Medical Center. What would the doctor say this time? That the illness had worsened? Or that my days were truly numbered? Suddenly, the lock clicked, and Savannah walked in. Her makeup was smudged, but she wore a look of satisfaction. She didn’t even look my way, just headed straight for the bedroom as if I were a piece of furniture. “Morning.” I tried to break the silence, but my voice came out barely a whisper. “Oh.” Her response was cold, indifferent, as she slammed the bedroom door shut. I felt a wave of dizziness, my hand instinctively gripping the table’s edge. This was happening, and it was all too real. That afternoon, I made my way to the hospital alone. The stark white corridors and antiseptic smell weighed on me with each step. The doctor’s face was solemn, his voice full of sympathy and resignation—the disease had indeed progressed. “Mr. Hartman, it’s time to tell your family. Take care of yourself.” His voice was gentle, but his eyes pierced right through me. Family? Savannah? She probably wouldn’t even care. On the way home, I kept thinking of how to tell Savannah, hoping that maybe she’d show a bit of emotion, maybe even return to me. But when I arrived, she was packing her bags. Her eyes held no tears, only resolution. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I need to live somewhere else for a while.” Her tone was calm, as if she were just going on a trip. “Is it because of him? Because of Justin?” My heart felt like it was being torn apart. She paused, looked at me with irritation, not a shred of guilt in her gaze. “Yes. I need space to think.” And in that moment, I knew I’d lost more than my health—I’d lost the woman I loved. Her words shattered my world. I watched silently as she finished packing, closed the door, and left, leaving the house in a deathly silence. 3 After Savannah left, the emptiness of the house felt unbearable. Every sound echoed off the walls, each one a cruel reminder that I’d been completely abandoned. I was desperate. I didn’t want to let Savannah go. I made excuses for her, thinking maybe she’d made a mistake, maybe I hadn’t done enough to keep her. To save our marriage, I tried everything. I sent her countless messages, saying that if she came back, I’d forgive her. Each one went unanswered. I even reached out to mutual friends, asking them to pass along my apologies. I went to therapy, hoping it would help ease the torment. I was barely holding myself together. Finally, one day, I followed her. I thought I’d casually “run into” her, but I ended up at The Blue Ivy Lounge, where Justin was too. Inside a private room, a group of people drank and laughed, with Savannah the only woman there. She was dressed provocatively, drawing stares from all the men around her. Justin was by her side, and they were downing drinks together, egged on by their audience. I froze at the door, feeling humiliation crawl up my spine. I was too scared to open it. Savannah cuddled close to Justin, taking a sip from her glass, smiling shyly in a way I’d once thought was only for me. Pain gripped my chest, making it hard to breathe. Then, I saw one man pull out a tiny vial, pouring something into her glass. My heart raced. Clenching my fists, I pushed open the door. Savannah looked at me, shock briefly crossing her face before it turned cold and scornful. She whispered something to Justin, and they both walked over to me. I stood there, feeling like I was the intruder. Justin stepped up, his smirk dripping with disdain. “Luke, fancy seeing you here. Came looking for Savannah?” I forced a smile, trying to stay calm. “Yeah, what a coincidence.” Savannah’s voice was as cold as ice. “Well, since you’re here, let’s lay it all out.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “Savannah, just come home. We can pretend none of this happened.” Justin’s eyes flashed with disdain. He grabbed my collar, shoving me against the wall. “You think you matter? Stalking us now, are you?” I struggled to break free, but his strength overpowered mine. He punched me, and I felt my lip split open. Onlookers sneered, their eyes gleaming with amusement. “Enough.” Savannah walked up, affectionately pulling Justin back. “Don’t dirty your hands.” Justin let go, sneering as he looked down at me. “Remember, Savannah’s mine now. Get lost.” They turned, and the door slammed in my face. I sat alone on the floor, surrounded by whispers and mocking stares, my dignity torn to shreds. After a while, I dragged myself up, opened the door, and shouted after her, “Savannah, don’t drink that. They’re trying to hurt you.” That angered them even more, and I was thrown out of the bar. When I got home, I sat alone in the dark, letting the shadows close in around me. The pain burned deep—part of it for her, but part for me, knowing she was heading down a path of no return. Then the phone rang, breaking the silence. It was Savannah. I picked up immediately. Our voices overlapped. “S-Savannah, you didn’t drink that, did you?” “Luke, today better be the last time you show up in my life.” Relief washed over me. She hadn’t drunk it. Her voice was sharp and cold. “I don’t want you in my life. Whether I drink or not, that’s none of your concern.” The resentment in my heart ignited. “How can you treat me like this, Savannah?” “I just don’t want you hovering around,” she said coldly. “We live in the same town. We’ll run into each other now and then.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but it trembled. “Then you could at least avoid places you know I’ll be.” Her tone was full of irritation. “Savannah, after all these years, can you really just walk away?” My voice rose, hurt and anger spilling over. She was silent for a moment. “Walk away? Luke, I don’t feel a thing for you anymore. Look after yourself.” “And that drink? It’s between me and Justin. I’m fine with it.” Her words played over in my head, mocking me, leaving me numb.
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