Ever since the diagnosis, the voice had been on a relentless loop. A cold, synthetic voice inside my head, practically weeping as it begged me not to hold on. “Please, just get a divorce.” “She slept with her intern the moment you were diagnosed. This marriage isn’t worth the slow, excruciating compromise!” “Without her, without this marriage, you’ll finally be free.” I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping. Beside me, Lucy immediately pulled me into her arms. “Sweetheart, are you okay? Are you hurting?” Lucy’s eyes were filled with nothing but raw concern. We were childhood sweethearts; we knew each other inside out. Since we got married, everyone in our neighborhood praised her as the perfect wife. Her? Having an affair? While she went to fetch me a warm glass of water, I reached for her phone. The passcode used to be my birthday. Now, it had been changed. Just then, the doorbell rang. Late at night, a drunken man was shouting her name outside our door. When he saw me, his grin turned mockingly wide. “Hey, brother-in-law. I just came to get something from Lucy. Do me a favor and check under her pillow. See if there’s a pair of men’s boxers there?” I didn’t say a word. I just felt a sharp, stabbing pain bloom behind my eyes. He was the intern the voice in my head had warned me about. Brody. … Before Brody could say anything else, Lucy had already called a cab and shoved him inside. When she walked back into the room, I was tearing the bed sheets apart, searching. “What are you looking for?” she asked, letting out a soft, casual laugh. “You’re really going to believe the ramblings of a drunk?” She actively lifted her pillow. “See? Anything there?” She reached out to wrap her arms around my waist, but I quietly stepped back. “A man gets wasted, calls you repeatedly, and shows up at our door in the middle of the night. Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” I stared at her, trying to catch even a flicker of guilt. But she only sighed, her face softening into a look of deep, exhausted pity. “I know you’re sick, Gary. It makes you paranoid. He’s young. He got drunk and did something stupid. It happens. Please, don’t let these thoughts ruin what we have, okay?” That was the first night we slept in separate rooms. The next morning, I didn’t make her breakfast. The silence between us froze over, thick and unyielding. By the fourth day of our cold war, Lucy hadn’t come home, and it was past midnight. Agonized, I called her phone repeatedly. When someone finally picked up, it wasn’t her. It was Brody. “Gary? You need something from Lucy?” I let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “I’m calling my own wife. Do I need to clear that with you?” “Whoa, man, no need to be so aggressive. I didn’t mean anything by it… It’s just that Lucy’s pretty drunk, and honestly, given how sick you are, are you sure you’re in any condition to come get her?” The line went dead. I threw on a jacket and took a cab to a private lounge downtown. Before I even opened the heavy double doors of the private room, I heard the rowdy cheering inside. “Take a shot! Take a shot!” Through the glass pane, I saw Brody walk up to Lucy with a shot glass. She pulled him in by the collar, cupping his face, and leaned in—pressing her lips to his, transferring the alcohol from her mouth to his. Bang! I kicked the door open. The rage in my chest was a physical fire, and the laughter in the room died instantly. “Gary?” Lucy frowned, her eyes scanning my pale face. “What are you doing here?” I nodded toward the innocent-looking kid beside her. “Your little friend practically dared me to come. You think I’d stay home?” Brody scrambled to defend himself. “Lucy, I swear, when you went to the restroom, he kept calling… I just didn’t want him to worry, so I told him we were at a business dinner…” Lucy didn’t look angry at him at all. Instead, she patted the back of his hand reassuringly. “It’s not your fault.” She stood up and walked toward me. “Have you made enough of a scene? Are you satisfied now?” Without waiting for my reply, she brushed past me and walked out. I tried to follow her, but a sudden, blinding pain exploded in my skull. I slid down against the wall, clutching my head. “Lucy… it hurts… I’m hurting so bad…” That night, I was rushed to the hospital and admitted. Lucy ran around handling the paperwork, getting the medications, doing everything she could. By the time she could finally sit down, dawn was breaking. She sat by my bedside, exhausted, pulling the blanket over my hand with the IV drip. “Listen to the doctor, okay? You’re going to be fine. Look at you, making such a massive deal out of nothing.” Her dismissive tone ignited a dry, hot anger in my chest. “Nothing? You think this is a minor thing, Lucy? If I hadn’t shown up tonight, would the two of you have ended up in bed together?!” “Gary!!” she yelled, her eyes suddenly bloodshot and terrifying. “Do you have any idea what it takes to close a client?! You sit at home all day doing absolutely nothing, so of course you have time to make up these sick fantasies! Do you have any idea how exhausting my job is?!” The words hung in the air. We both went completely still. When I was first diagnosed, the nausea had been unbearable. I lived in front of the toilet bowl, losing twenty pounds in a single month. She was the one who begged me to quit my job. “Just stay home and focus on getting better,” she’d said, holding my face in her hands. “Do you really think I can’t support my own husband? Don’t worry about the money.” Those sweet promises had curdled into the sharpest knives. A flash of regret crossed her eyes. She ran a hand through her messy hair, looking frustrated, and reached for my hand. “Gary, I didn’t mean it like that… What are you hungry for? I’ll go grab you something.” I stared at her, then slowly held out my palm. “Your phone.” She froze for a beat, forcing a dry chuckle. “What? Still don’t trust me?” I didn’t blink. “Your phone.” “Why did you change the passcode? What is in there that I’m not allowed to see?” Lucy shoved her hands into her pockets, her fingers clenching around something. She glared at me, her face contorting with sudden, ugly rage. Suddenly, she whipped the phone out and slammed it onto the floor. The screen shattered, shards of glass sliding right up to my bed. “Are you happy now?” she hissed. “Are we done throwing tantrums?” She walked out, slamming the door. The empty hospital room swallowed me whole. I stayed in that ward for seven days. Lucy never showed up. Every morning, the nurses looked at me with pity. Compared to the other patients whose bedsides were crowded with loving family members, I was a ghost. When it was time to discharge, the young nurse finally asked gently, “Do you want me to call your emergency contact? There are a lot of post-discharge instructions to go over.” I didn’t say anything, which she took as a yes. But deep down, a pathetic ember of hope flared up. Unfortunately, after four or five calls, Lucy never picked up. The nurse looked at me sympathetically. “Maybe she’s in a meeting?” I forced a smile, thanked her, and called an Uber myself. When the car pulled up to our apartment building, I looked up and saw the warm glow of the lights in our living room window. Lucy was home. Then why didn’t she answer? Was she just punishing me? A cold, quiet fury rose within me. I headed upstairs, determined to have it out with her. But the moment I opened the door, I froze. There was a pair of men’s leather dress shoes sitting neatly on the mat. Upbeat music was blasting from the speakers, so loud they hadn’t even heard the front door click. “Lucy, grab the bowls! Dinner is ready!” “Should we open that red wine I bought?” Brody’s voice floated out from the kitchen. I walked forward like a zombie, watching through the open doorway as Lucy wrapped her arms around his waist from behind while he wore an apron. “Smells amazing,” she murmured against his shoulder. “But honestly, I’d rather eat you first…” My mind went entirely numb. It felt as if they were the married couple, living their beautiful, domestic life, and I was just an intruder who had accidentally walked into the wrong apartment. Brody giggled, turning his head to kiss her lips. It was in that split second of turning that they finally saw me standing there. I slowly took a step forward. Lucy instinctively stepped in front of Brody, shielding him. Tears had crept down my face, tasting salty and cold. When I spoke, my voice was barely a whisper. “Lucy… why?” Suddenly, I was ten years old again, standing in the doorway of my childhood home on a warm Tuesday afternoon. I had gotten out of school early, clutching a straight-A report card, desperate to show my parents. Instead, I walked in to find my father in the back bedroom with a woman from down the street, grunting like stray dogs in an alley. My mother had come home early that day, too. She was carrying two heavy bags of groceries, smiling warmly. “Go do your homework, sweetheart! I’m making lasagna tonight!” I never got to eat that lasagna. Because seconds later, she was chasing my father down the street with a butcher knife, while he scrambled to pull up his pants. I didn’t grab a knife. I just stood there, static as stone, watching Brody frantically gather his things and bolt out the door. Shortly after he left, Lucy walked past me holding a heavy black trash bag. “Gary, I… I’m just going to throw this out. I’ll be right back.” I snatched the bag from her hands. Before she could react, I ripped it open, dumping the contents onto the floor. Thigh-high stockings. Handcuffs. Lipstick. A spare toothbrush. Lace lingerie. A remote-controlled toy. The air in the room felt thick enough to suffocate us. Shaking, I walked over to the front door, turned the deadbolt, and locked it from the inside. “Starting today, you aren’t going anywhere,” I whispered. “If you try to walk out that door, we both die.” On the first day of our confinement, Lucy acted normal. She got down on her knees, crying, begging for forgiveness. She swore it was a temporary lapse in judgment. “…You were too sick for us to be intimate, and Brody was assigned to my team. Gary, I’m a human being. I have needs! I swear I’ll never do it again, please!” She repented like a devout sinner, clinging to my feet. She cleaned every corner of the house until it was spotless, cooking gourmet meals and brewing herbal soups for me. But by the third day, her phone wouldn’t stop ringing. She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “There’s a crisis at work, Gary. Please, just let me go for a few hours. I’ll come straight back. You can set a timer, track my location! You can monitor me the whole time!” I held her wrist so tightly my knuckles turned white. “Brody is at the office, isn’t he? You’re just going to see him.” Lucy let out a long, weary sigh, reaching up to gently stroke my hair. “Fine, fine. I won’t go. Stop overthinking. I’ll stay right here with you. I won’t leave.” We had one more day of fragile peace. Until the fifth day, in the dead of night. I heard the faint rustle of keys. I got out of bed to find Lucy quietly unlocking the front door. “What are you doing?” She jumped, startled, then rubbed her temples with a look of pure exhaustion. “Gary, you are ruining my life. I have so much work piling up. I promise you, the second I finish this meeting, I will come right back.” I lunged forward, grabbing her arm, shaking my head violently. “I won’t let you leave! You’re going to him, aren’t you? No!” Panic and madness consumed me. I threw my body against the door, completely out of my mind. “Gary! You are a literal psycho!” Lucy struggled against me. Finally, snapping under the tension, she swung her hand and slapped me hard across the face. Slap! My cheek burned. Her sneer pierced through the ringing in my ears. “Now I finally see why your dad left. Your mother was a lunatic, and so are you. Why don’t you just go join her in the grave?!” The heavy door slammed shut behind her, leaving me alone in the dark. My mother did go crazy after that day. She refused to sign the divorce papers, spending her days pacing the house, screaming curses, her face smeared with tears and saliva. She would beat me, scream at me, and I was too terrified to even cry out loud. Back then, Lucy would always find excuses to sneak me into her house. She would share her snacks and let me read her comic books. “Don’t be scared, Gary,” she’d whisper, her little hand squeezing mine. “I’ve got you. I’ll protect you.” When my mother finally took her own life, teenage Lucy was the one who stood by me through the funeral, kneeling beside me to thank every guest who came to offer condolences. “Gary, from now on, I am your family.” She had been the sole light in my dark world. She was the one who had stitched my childhood wounds closed. And now, she was the one ripping them open and pouring salt into them. Lucy didn’t answer my calls for the rest of the night. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, her best friend called me. “Gary, this is messed up, even for you… Every woman makes mistakes. But exposing them online like this? How is Lucy supposed to show her face ever again?” Bewildered, I hung up and opened my laptop. That was when I saw it. Someone had leaked private photos of Lucy and Brody online under a sickening headline: Cheating Scum: A Love Story. There were uncensored photos and videos. In the office, in our bedroom, in her car, in a public park… Lucy, pouring all her passion into him. Those eyes, which used to look only at me, were filled with nothing but desire for another man. But I hadn’t posted those photos. Panicking, I tried calling her again. She still wouldn’t pick up. Desperate, I left a voicemail: “Tonight at eight. The Ferris wheel where I proposed. I’ll wait for you.” Hours later, a text came back. Okay. Eight o’clock. See you there. Those six words brought a tiny sliver of peace to my chest. I even reached for a tie—something I hadn’t touched since my diagnosis. I arrived two hours early, sitting on a bench beneath the massive wheel. Watching the couples and families pass by, a deep, aching envy hollowed out my chest. Years ago, we had been one of them. When the Ferris wheel was first built, Lucy had dragged me here, practically bursting with excitement. “Gary, they say if a couple kisses at the very top, they’ll stay together forever.” With her cheeks flushed, she had dropped to one knee in the small glass cabin, pulling out a ring. “Marry me,” she’d said. “I swear I’ll love you forever.” The memory was so vivid it burned. By the time I snapped out of it, Lucy was already sitting quietly beside me. “Gary…” she said softly. “Let’s go.” Her voice was flat. I followed her, reaching out to grasp her hand, but she pulled away. Even after we sat down inside the cabin and the wheel began to turn, she refused to look at me. After a heavy silence, I finally spoke. “The photos… I swear, I didn’t do that.” “You didn’t?” She let out a dry, mocking laugh, finally turning her eyes to me. “Gary, stop acting. Didn’t you want everyone to know? Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted.” “But let me tell you something,” she continued, her voice rising, echoing inside the small glass box. “You ruined his reputation. Now, I have to take responsibility for him!” Right there, in the very spot where she had promised to love me forever, she was telling me she had to take care of another man. It felt like ice water poured directly down my throat. I shook my head, desperate. “It wasn’t me! I swear to God, Lucy, it wasn’t me!” “You said you only loved me!” Her face turned cold as stone as she violently wrenched her hand from my grip. “I genuinely detest you right now, Gary. You make me sick.” Her words paralyzed me. Before I could process the pain, the cabin touched the ground. Lucy didn’t even wait for the attendant; she shoved the latch open, leaped out, and slammed the door shut from the outside, locking me in. A second later, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Brody. Since you love the Ferris wheel so much, why don’t you stay up there for a while? I looked toward the control booth. It was empty. Through the glass, I watched Lucy wrap her arm around Brody’s tall frame as they walked away into the night. Suddenly, a violent spasm of pain exploded in my brain. The world spun. I threw myself against the glass door, screaming in absolute terror. “Help! Please, help me!” “Stop the wheel! I’m sick! Help!” By the time the ambulance arrived, I had lost consciousness. I was vomiting blood, coating the floor of the cabin. With the very last thread of my consciousness, I felt myself being lifted onto a stretcher. “Where is his family? Do we have an emergency contact?!” I weakly gestured for the pen, signing the consent form myself. I managed a small, empty smile. “Sorry…” I whispered. “My family is all dead. There’s no one.”
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