I was diagnosed with acute leukemia the moment I found out York was dating another girl Winnie. My world shattered, and just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, his uncle appeared. On their wedding day, Winnie whispered something strange to me. After the wedding, York’s true face emerged. Yet, the truth ignited something fierce within me. I couldn’t stand by, not even at the cost of my life. I would fight, using every ounce of strength to save him from his own lies. And in my final moments, I realized—York had always been there, hidden in the shadows, loving me in his own twisted way. Even as I bled out, I knew—he had always been there. In my quest for revenge, I married my boyfriend’s uncle. I’m Zenobia Smith, and I met York Wales five years ago. It was a typical college day when I first saw him—standing under the sun in a crisp white shirt. His clean, perfect image struck me, but it was his eyes—so clear and untainted—that held me. His family was wealthy, and they had already arranged a marriage for him. But York, in defiance, ran away from his world and chose me. We struggled after college. No jobs, no money. But we always had each other. Then, things started to change. A company hired us, and York, after a year and a half, left to start his own business. Despite the hardships, we made it. For five years, we were inseparable. I believed we’d walk down the aisle one day. Then came the diagnosis. Acute leukemia. “I can’t afford the treatment, York. My family… they can’t help. I’m… I’m too far gone,” my voice breaking. York’s face twisted in agony. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Zenobia. I’m not losing you. I’ll find the money, I swear.” But nothing was enough. The bills piled up, and we were drowning. Then came the anonymous envelope, the one with money. I read the handwritten note over and over again, desperately clinging to it like it was my lifeline. As the pain from treatment consumed me, York stayed by my side. He was my rock. But soon, I started noticing the change in him. His phone would ring, and he’d quickly shove it away, muttering about spam. “York, who was that?” I asked one evening, my voice fragile. “It’s nothing, Zenobia. Just… just some junk mail,” he replied, forcing a smile. I could feel it in my bones. Something was off. One day, when he stepped out of the room. I unlocked his phone. The message was clear. “Tonight at 8, Doya Hotel, Room 203, waiting for you.” My heart stopped. The name on the message sent a chill through me—Winnie. His ex-fiancée. The woman his family had chosen for him. I could hardly breathe. My entire world was crashing down around me. “York… How could you?” York had never turned his back on me during my sickness, but maybe the pressure was too much for him. Maybe he needed an outlet—or maybe he just had normal human needs? I tried to rationalize it, to make excuses for him. But as the days passed, my mood soured. My treatment stopped going as smoothly, and I couldn’t hide my anger every time he glanced at his phone. Finally, one day, I exploded. He didn’t argue with me. He just calmly walked out of the room—and he never came back.
I began to resist treatment on purpose, refusing to take my medicine. My former doctors and nurses were at their wit’s end. At that moment, I just wanted to wait for death. Then, my new doctor—Woodruff Jenkins—walked into my world. “Hello, I’m your new doctor, Woodruff Jenkins. Forty-two years old, Cancer sign, no bad habits, I own a house and a car, and after work, I just go home,” he introduced himself, his voice casual yet confident. I thought, What is he doing, giving me his personal details like we’re on a blind date? But I couldn’t help but notice that his introduction caught my attention. “I’ve reviewed your case. There’s hope for you. Don’t worry, no patient of mine has ever given up on themselves,” he said with a reassuring smile like a ray of light cutting through the darkness of my life. I stared at him, and something about his smile—his eyes—reminded me of York. They were just as clear, just as innocent. “Medicine is great, but nothing beats the sunshine. Let’s go for a walk,” his tone gentle but unyielding. “I’m tired,” Before I could respond, he signaled the nurse to bring over a wheelchair. Then, without warning, he swept me into his arms in a princess carry and placed me in the wheelchair. I was stunned by his suddenness but didn’t push him away. I couldn’t help it—there was something about him that reminded me of York. I began cooperating with my treatment. Dr. Jenkins would accompany me on walks whenever he had time, and soon, I found myself eagerly awaiting his rounds. My health improved, and as our bond grew beyond the doctor-patient relationship. One day, as we sat together, he took my hand and said softly, “I think it’s time we take things to the next level. Next week, there’s a family gathering. I want to bring you along.” I froze. Is this happening so fast? Five years with York, and he never once took me to meet his family. But with Woodruff, just three months in, and I was going to meet his parents? The day of the gathering, Woodruff took me shopping for a red dress. The moment I put it on, I felt like a new person—healthier, more alive. I was worried about what his family would think if they knew I was sick, but Woodruff had once said, “A firm choice is more important than any romance.” I wasn’t sure if I believed in fate, but in that moment, I understood what he meant. When we arrived at Woodruff’s home, my anxiety only grew. The large garden, the mansion, the servants—everything screamed wealth. I walked in with him, my heart pounding. “The others aren’t here yet, we’ve arrived first. Let’s wait for them,” Woodruff said, his hand gently guiding me. “Okay,” I whispered, trying to steady myself. “Sit here. I’ll go grab you some fresh juice,” he walked toward the kitchen. As I waited, I noticed the family photos on the mantle above the fireplace. I ran my fingers over them, one by one, until I reached a photo of Woodruff as a child. He looked so innocent. But then, my eyes froze on one particular picture. It was a photo of Woodruff with someone else. York. My heart skipped a beat. Before I could process the shock, Woodruff came back with the juice. He saw the blood on my hands, and panic flashed across his face. “Zenobia! You’re bleeding,” . He rushed me to the car and sped back to the hospital. On the way there,my mind racing. How could I have missed this? Woodruff glanced at me, concern written all over his face. “We’ll be at the hospital soon. Where are you hurting?” “Pull over,” I ordered suddenly. “Zenobia, what’s wrong?” “Stop the car,” Woodruff pulled over and reached out to touch my head. “What’s happening?” “Why… why do you have a picture with York?” “He’s my nephew. I’m his uncle.” I was stunned. “You knew about York and me all along?” “No, not at first,” his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know, but then his father mentioned you to me. I felt for you and wanted to help, but I never expected to fall for you. I’m so sorry, Zenobia. I never meant to hide it from you.” He pulled me into an embrace. “And York… I’m sure you’ve figured out what happened. He and Winnie, they’ve been in contact for a while. They were still meeting, going to hotels together…” His words sliced through me like a knife. They’d been together all along. My heart broke into a thousand pieces. But at that moment, I could feel Woodruff’s arms around me—comforting, gentle. He wasn’t York. He never would be. Yet, even in his warmth, I could still see York’s face, his eyes, his smile. I wanted to confess my feelings to Woodruff, but every time I saw the care he gave me, my words got stuck. He was the light in my life now, and I couldn’t bear to hurt him.
It was valentine day, and a nurse walked in with a bouquet of flowers, smiling brightly. “Dr. White is in surgery, but the flowers he ordered for you have arrived.” Yes, he was always so thoughtful. I placed the flowers in a vase and gazed out at the cars passing below the hospital, each car seemingly carrying a pair of lovers. Last year’s Valentine was spent with York, but this year, everything had changed. “Do you like the flowers?” Suddenly, a pair of large hands wrapped around my waist from behind. It was Woodruff. “I do,” “How about we go out for dinner tonight? I’ve reserved a table at a fancy restaurant,” Woodruff whispered, nibbling at my neck. “Sounds good,” At 8 PM, I changed out of my hospital gown and joined Woodruff at the restaurant. As expected, it was a high-end place. The decor suggested the food might be expensive, though I couldn’t tell if it was any good, but I could already taste the wealth in the air. Sure enough, the dishes that arrived were Michelin-level. Woodruff clearly paid great attention to me. Amid our light conversation, a familiar voice suddenly called from behind. “Uncle.” I turned, and my heart nearly shattered. It was York. “York, Winnie is here too,” Woodruff responded. I quickly turned away, not wanting to meet his gaze, though I could tell York was equally stunned. “I was just checking in on my patient,” Woodruff tried to lighten the awkward atmosphere. “Well, since Uncle’s friend is here, we won’t stay. Let’s go, York,” Winnie said, pulling York away. York walked slowly, struggling, probably because he couldn’t understand the situation—his uncle was sitting across from his ex, who hadn’t officially broken up with him yet. As York and Winnie sat down nearby, I lowered my head and tried to eat, but the food had lost all its taste. A wave of resentment and jealousy surged inside me. “Marry me,” Woodruff suddenly said. My mind was still reeling from the shock of seeing York, the man who had betrayed me and left me when I was sick. I stared at Woodruff for a moment and then answered, “Yes.” Woodruff’s excitement was palpable. “What? You said yes?” “Mm,” “Wait here,” Woodruff stood and walked toward the front desk, speaking briefly with the manager before returning to my side, grabbing my hand. The manager approached, pushing a cart with wine and flowers, followed by a violinist. Woodruff knelt beside me, pulling a ring from his pocket. As the violinist began to play, we became the center of attention. In front of everyone, Woodruff slipped the ring onto my finger. The room erupted in applause, offering us their blessings. But York, seated nearby, wore a shocked and worried expression. Less than a year after breaking up with York, I was marrying his uncle. Woodruff rushed to plan our wedding as if afraid I would disappear if we slowed down. We began writing invitations, and since Woodruff was York’s uncle, I knew he would come. I quickly wrote York’s name on the invitation, imagining how he would regret his actions when he saw me on my wedding day. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was York. I froze for a second, thinking, Could he already regret it? “Hello, what’s up?” There was a brief silence on the other end before he spoke. “Don’t marry my uncle.” Does he regret it already? “Don’t you want me to live long?” “No, you can hate me, but don’t marry my uncle. You have to trust me. We were together for five years. Have I ever lied to you?” His voice shook. “Did you lie to me? What about you and Winnie?” “It’s not what you think. We didn’t do anything,” he hurriedly explained. “I saw your phone.” I cut him off. There was silence on the other end. “No one stays a fool forever. I have to finish writing wedding invitations. Goodbye.” Before he could say more, I hung up. The more he suffered, the better I felt. It felt like all the pain from the past was finally being repaid. I deleted York’s contact information and blocked him. “You deserve it. This is the price of betrayal.” “Are you done?” Woodruff’s voice startled me. I hadn’t realized he was standing behind me. “Almost,” I quickly closed my phone. “Who was that?” Woodruff asked, noticing my unease. “Telemarketer,” I lied. Woodruff paused, “Let’s go to the marriage registration office today.” “I thought we were doing that after the wedding?” I asked, surprised. We had previously agreed to register after the ceremony. “Maybe I just want you so much. I’m afraid someone might steal you away,” “Okay, let’s go to the registration office this afternoon,” I replied.
In the afternoon, we left the civil affairs bureau and took a car back to Woodruff’s house. Along the way, Woodruff suddenly became much quieter than usua. To break the silence, I spoke first, “My condition is much more stable now.” Normally, if I mentioned my illness before, he would go into a detailed analysis, but today he only replied with a cold “mm.” Perhaps he was tired from juggling work and wedding preparations. I decided not to push for a conversation and let the silence linger. But then I noticed we weren’t heading to the hospital or his house; instead, we were going to a resort in the suburbs. “The house is a bit chaotic with the wedding preparations, so you’ll stay here for now,” Woodruff said. His thoughtfulness moved me, and for a moment, I thought I had found the right person. But once again, reality shattered my hopeful dreams … Soon, the wedding day arrived. We had decided to hold the ceremony in Woodruff’s small villa. To keep things simple and not tire me out, we only invited family and close friends. York and Winnie were also present. winnie approached me to congratulate me and gave me a gift. York didn’t speak to me; he went straight to Woodruff, and I caught a glimpse of their expressions. Woodruff wore his professional, fake smile, while York looked visibly displeased.”If I had known it would be like this, I wouldn’t have left first.” Woodruff glanced over at me, and when he saw Winnie and I talking, he ignored York and came over to us. Winnie, upon seeing him, suddenly hugged me and whispered “York asked me to tell you not to sign any papers Woodruff gives you, and don’t let him know what I told you.” Before I could ask her what she meant, she quickly greeted Woodruff. “Uncle, congratulations.” Woodruff gave her a quick glance before turning to me, “Not tired, are you?” I nodded. Just then, Woodruff’s boss arrived, and he quickly took me away from Winnie to greet him. As the wedding party carried on, a frail, disheveled old woman, around 70 years old, burst into the room, grabbing Woodruff by the collar and shouting like a madwoman, “Give me back my daughter, you killed her…” Everyone was shocked, but only Winnie and York remained calm. At first, Woodruff was a bit stunned, but he quickly composed himself, silently instructing the servants to remove the woman. He adjusted his tie and glanced deeply at York, then ordered the servants to call the police. Was this York’s revenge? Sending an old woman to disrupt my most important moment? It was his betrayal that started this, and now he was trying to ruin my wedding. Five years of my life wasted. I stormed up to York and slapped him across the face. I hated this man in front of me with all my heart. Winnie gasped and immediately pushed me away. I then slapped her, the mistress in my relationship, leaving her stunned. She screamed, “Are you crazy?” Yes, I was crazy. These two had driven me mad. York didn’t try to explain himself; he just looked at me with sad eyes. “Please leave. You’re not welcome here,” As they were leaving, Winnie said, “Zenobia, all the suffering you’ll endure from now on, you deserve it.” All the pain I’ve suffered has come from these two people.
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