Chapter 1 Clutching the late-stage stomach cancer diagnosis, I sat on the cold hospital bench. I dialed my husband, Julian Vance. “The doctor says I need surgery. It’s going to cost a hundred thousand dollars out of pocket… can you lend me some money?” “Lily, our prenup is very clear. We keep our finances separate.” “Your illness is a personal liability. I shouldn’t be expected to take on that risk.” “Just set up a GoFundMe and post it on your socials.” Over the phone, I could faintly hear our son’s childish, excited cheer: “Aunt Chloe, Daddy bought this gift for you! I wish you were my mommy!” “Well, you can call me Mommy if you want to.” A young woman’s smiling voice echoed through the receiver: “Julian, thank you for the investment. The five hundred thousand just hit my account…” I numbly hung up the phone and walked back to our cold, empty house. Late that night, Julian brought our son home and saw me sitting quietly on the sofa. He walked over, his thumb gently brushing the corner of my eye. “Lily, I’m doing this for your own good.” “In the adult world, no one is a safe harbor for anyone else.” “You have to learn to provide your own safety net, otherwise, how will you survive in this society?” I nodded calmly, turned to go back to the bedroom, and called my lawyer. “Help me draft the divorce papers.” … After hanging up, I shoved the diagnosis report to the very bottom of my medical folder. From the living room came Leo’s laughter. “Daddy, Aunt Chloe says she’s taking me to the indoor water park this weekend!” Julian replied softly, “Finish your homework first.” Julian and I had been married for seven years. Leo was six years old. The night he was born, I suffered massive hemorrhaging. Julian had gripped my hand outside the operating room, his eyes red. “Lily, you and the baby both have to make it.” The first time Leo called me “Mommy,” he was only ten months old. He threw his arms around my neck, drooling all over my face. I was so happy that day I took dozens of videos. But now, my own flesh and blood had just said on the phone: I wish Aunt Chloe was my mommy. The door pushed open. Julian stood in the doorway, his dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, holding a scarf. “Leo picked this out for you.” He walked over and draped the scarf over my shoulders. His movements were incredibly light. So light, it was as if there were no GoFundMe, no cancer diagnosis between us. And no other woman that he favored. He remembered I hated the cold. He remembered I didn’t drink cold water before bed. But he conveniently forgot that I would be terrified when I was dying. “You don’t look well today.” I looked at him. “I have late-stage stomach cancer.” His fingers paused. A second later, he looked down and adjusted the edge of the scarf. “Lily, don’t try to scare me with things like that.” “Where’s the report?” I gave a small smile. “Didn’t you say my illness is a personal liability?” Julian looked up at me. “I was talking about principles.” “Principles aren’t cold-blooded.” I asked: “So telling me to start a GoFundMe is also a principle?” He frowned. “Lily, I don’t like it when you twist my words.” “Telling you to crowdfund gives you another option.” “Adults can’t dump all their risks onto their partners.” I unlocked my phone and pushed a credit card transaction screenshot in front of him. Fifty thousand dollars. A luxury jewelry boutique. Recipient: Chloe Bennett. Julian barely glanced at it, his expression completely unfazed. “Chloe just got back from overseas and is heading up a new project. She needs to meet investors.” “Looking the part is a business expense.” I nodded. “And the five hundred thousand?” Julian’s face finally darkened. “Lily, do you really have to put yourself in a position to compete with her?” Footsteps padded toward the door. Leo ran in clutching his Legos. “Daddy, Aunt Chloe said she’ll help me build this tomorrow!” He stopped when he finally noticed me. The smile on his face faded instantly. “Oh. You’re here, Mommy.” I asked him, “What did you say on the phone earlier?” Leo’s eyes darted away. “I didn’t say anything.” Julian spoke up, his voice low. “It was just a kid talking nonsense. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” I looked at my son. “Leo, do you want Aunt Chloe to be your mommy?” He clutched his Legos tighter, his voice very small. “Aunt Chloe says even though she’s not my mommy, she understands me better.” “She doesn’t force me to do homework, and she doesn’t get sick all the time.” The room went dead silent. My fingertips curled slowly into my palms. Julian looked at me. “He’s just a child. Don’t take it to heart.” I asked calmly, “Are you?” He stiffened. I took the scarf off and placed it back into his hands. “Julian, tomorrow morning, ten o’clock. My lawyer’s office.” He looked as if he’d just heard something absurd. “Because of a title?” “No.” I looked at him. “Because today, I finally realized there is no place for me in this house.” Julian stared at me, dropping his tone. “Lily, stop throwing a tantrum.” “You’re in a bad mood right now. I can tolerate this.” He reached out to touch my head. In the past, whenever he did this, my heart would soften. But this time, I tilted my head away. His hand froze in midair. I said: “I don’t need your tolerance.” “I just need your signature.” The next day, Julian didn’t show up at the lawyer’s office. I waited until eleven-thirty. He sent a text. 【Chloe has a big project pitch today. I can’t get away.】 Another text popped up right after. 【If you really want a divorce, have your lawyer contact me.】 I stood on the street corner, clutching my purse. I didn’t reply. I turned around and went to the hospital. The doctor looked over my scans, his expression heavy. “Ms. Morgan, I strongly advise you to be admitted immediately.” “If we want to fight for a chance at surgery, you cannot delay the preliminary treatments.” I asked: “How much will it cost?” The doctor gave me a number. One hundred thousand dollars. I nodded. “I understand.” At the billing window, I swiped three different cards. Insufficient funds. The clerk looked up at me. “Is your family not here with you?” I said, “No.” When the word slipped out, even I froze for a second. I had a husband. I had a biological son. But standing in front of the hospital billing window, I was completely alone. That afternoon, I went home to get my passport and social security card. The moment I pushed the door open, I heard a woman’s laughter in the living room. Chloe was sitting on the sofa. She was wearing a beige dress suit, and on her wrist was the fifty-thousand-dollar Cartier bracelet. Leo was draped over her lap, playing on his iPad. Julian stood next to her, pouring her a glass of warm water. Before handing it over, he tested the temperature against the back of his hand. He used to test my water like that. Back then, I thought it was love. Now I knew: it wasn’t that he was incapable of being gentle. He was just selective. Seeing me, Chloe immediately stood up. “Lily, you’re back.” She sounded perfectly sweet. But the bracelet on her wrist caught the light. The glare made my eyes hurt. I had lingered by the display case for that exact bracelet on my birthday. Julian had said to me: “Things like this aren’t practical.” “You’ve never been a vain person.” Now, it was shining on Chloe’s wrist. Julian glanced at me. “Why are you back?” I looked at him. “This is my house.” Chloe’s face paled slightly. Julian set the water glass down. “Chloe’s pitch was a success. I brought her back to grab a file.” “And let Leo hang out with her for a bit.” And. I was standing in line at the hospital trying to pay for cancer treatment. He was in my house throwing a celebration for another woman. Leo looked up from his iPad. “Mommy, can you be a little quieter?” “Aunt Chloe is really tired today.” I looked at my son. Suddenly, I remembered when he was three and had a terrible fever in the middle of the night. He was convulsing, clinging to my neck, crying. “Mommy, don’t go.” I didn’t close my eyes for a single second that night. Julian called his name in a low warning: “Leo.” But it was just a name. No reprimand. No correction. Chloe hurriedly patted the child’s head. “Kids just say things, don’t mind him, Lily.” She paused, her tone growing even softer. “Though… Julian did mention your health hasn’t been great.” “I’ve been working on my EmpowerHer Wellness Initiative lately, and I’ve seen a lot of cases like yours.” “Women need to have their own financial independence.” “You can’t just get sick and turn your pain into a bargaining chip to extort others.” I looked at her. “Did he teach you that line?” She flushed. Julian frowned. “Lily, stop being so passive-aggressive.” I didn’t say another word. I walked into the bedroom to pack my documents. Julian followed me in and shut the door. “Did you go to the hospital today?” I put my passport in my bag. “Yes.” “What were the results?” “Late stage.” His eyes shifted. But quickly, he pushed whatever emotion that was back down. “Show me the report.” I looked up. “What are you looking for?” “Trying to figure out if I’m still worth the investment?” Julian’s face darkened. “Lily, do you have to be this bitter?” “I just want to verify the situation.” I zipped my bag. “There’s no need.” He blocked the doorway. “Don’t leave today.” I gave a dry laugh. “Why?” “Afraid I’ll drop dead outside and there’ll be no one to pick up the kid from school?” He fell silent for a second. And in that second, the answer was crystal clear. From the living room, Leo yelled: “Daddy, Aunt Chloe says we’re going to get truffle pizza!” Julian turned his head and answered: “Wait for me.” I stared at his profile. He used to answer me like that too. I’d tell him Leo had a fever. He’d say, Wait for me. I’d tell him I was breaking down. He’d say, Wait for me. Later, I finally understood. His “wait for me” was never a promise. It was a delay tactic. I walked past him. He suddenly grabbed my wrist. “Lily.” His voice dropped, the way he used to coax me. “Don’t make this difficult for me.” I turned to look at him. “Julian.” “You make staying alive difficult for me.” “Do you really think I care about making things difficult for you?” I listed the small condo I owned before we got married for an emergency quick sale. Hearing my asking price, the realtor fell silent for a few seconds. “Ms. Morgan, this price is incredibly low.” “Are you absolutely sure?” I said, “I’m sure.” After hanging up, I sat in the hospital stairwell. My phone buzzed with an Instagram notification. Chloe had posted a new update. In the photo, she was standing on a presentation stage. The screen behind her read: 【EmpowerHer Wellness Initiative】 The next slide read: 【Healing isn’t about pills; it’s about spiritual rescue.】 Julian was sitting in the front row, looking up at her. I hadn’t seen that kind of patience from him in years. The caption read: 【Only when you are firmly supported do you dare to move forward.】 Someone commented: 【The way Mr. Vance is looking at you! So sweet.】 Chloe replied: 【He said I deserve to be seen.】 I stared at it for a long time. Then I locked my screen. The husband of a stomach cancer patient tells his wife to crowdfund her treatment. Then he turns around and invests in a wellness course for another woman. I guess you can put life’s most absurd tragedies into a PowerPoint after all. The doctor notified me it was time to check-in for admission. I took the deposit slip to the window. The clerk told me I was short forty thousand dollars. I called Julian. This time, he picked up. “What is it?” The background was quiet. Sounded like a conference room. I said: “I’m forty thousand short for my hospital deposit.” “Consider it a loan.” The other end of the line paused. “Lily, it’s not that I won’t give it to you.” “But your treatment plan hasn’t even been finalized yet.” “Blindly throwing money at it isn’t rational.” I closed my eyes. “The doctor says it can’t wait.” “Of course the doctor would say that.” His tone was perfectly steady. “Start with the basic treatments. We can talk when there’s a definitive plan.” I asked: “Is Chloe’s project plan definitive?” His voice went cold. “Don’t drag her into everything.” “Her project has societal value.” “What you’re doing right now is an emotional expense.” An emotional expense. I looked down at the medical bill. I let out a sudden laugh. “Julian, I’m dying of cancer, and you call it an emotional expense?” He stayed quiet for two seconds. “You know that’s not what I meant.” I opened my mouth to speak. Then I heard Chloe’s voice over his phone. “Julian, the investors are here.” Julian immediately said: “I have to go.” Right before he hung up, he added: “I had my assistant compile a list of medical relief grants and crowdfunding platforms for you.” “Stop rejecting the solutions people offer you.” The call ended. Less than a minute later, his assistant emailed me a document. The subject line was: 【Guide to Setting up Personal Crowdfunding for Critical Illnesses】 I stood in front of the billing window, my fingers stiff and freezing. The contract for my condo was signed that same night. The buyer negotiated ruthlessly. I didn’t counteroffer. As I signed the papers, the realtor asked quietly: “Ms. Morgan, do you have any family to help you?” I stared at my signature. “Yes.” “But they’re very busy.” Busy applauding another woman. Busy treating my cancer like an emotional expense. Busy teaching me to be independent. That night, I went back to the house to pack my hospital bag. There was a pair of unfamiliar heels by the door. The smell of soup drifted from the kitchen. Chloe was wearing my apron, ladling soup into bowls. Leo was sitting at the dining table. “Mommy Chloe, that smells so good.” Leo turned, saw me, and froze instantly. “I… I said it wrong.” Julian walked out of his home office. Seeing me, his brows knitted together. “Why are you coming back without letting anyone know again?” I looked at him. “Do I need to make an appointment to enter my own house?” Julian lowered his voice. “The kid didn’t mean anything by it.” I walked over to the table. There were three sets of bowls and silverware. None for me. Suddenly, I realized asking questions was pointless. They weren’t having a spontaneous celebration. They were already practicing being a family of three. Chloe’s eyes reddened. “Lily, I really didn’t mean to take your place.” “Leo is just lacking companionship.” “He said you always look so sick lately, and it scares him.” I looked at her. “So you taught him to call you Mommy Chloe?” Chloe bit her lip. “No, I didn’t.” Julian’s face went dark. “Lily, leave the child out of adult conflicts.” I laughed. “Adults?” “I gave birth to him.” “You two hand him a knife to stab me with, and now you say ‘leave the child out of it’?” Leo burst into tears. “Daddy, I don’t like Mommy when she’s like this!” “She’s so mean!” Julian immediately hugged him, soothing him softly. “It’s okay, Daddy’s here.” Then he looked up at me, his eyes icy. “You’re sick, I can understand that.” “But don’t take your pain out on our child.” I looked at Leo crying in his arms. I looked at Chloe standing beside them with red eyes. I finally understood that in this house, I didn’t even have the right to lose my mind. I turned and walked into the bedroom. I grabbed my hospital bag and dug out our marriage certificate. In the nightstand, there was a set of matching light-blue family outfits. I had bought them a month ago. Back then, I didn’t know I had cancer. I thought we could wear them as a family of three for Leo’s parent-teacher day at school. I didn’t need them anymore. When I went to leave, Julian was standing by the front door. His voice was heavy. “Lily, if you walk out this door tonight, don’t expect me to come to the hospital and beg you to come back.” I stopped in my tracks. I looked back at him. “Julian, have you ever begged me for anything?” He froze. I didn’t wait for an answer. Because the answer had been there all along.
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