The day I was diagnosed with a brain tumor, I saw my wife outside the maternity ward at the hospital. My heart skipped a beat with excitement. I wanted to rush over and ask if she was pregnant with our child. But just as I got to my feet, I saw her run toward another man. Seeing how intimate they were, I lowered my eyes and let out a sneer. I never would have guessed that all those times she said she was too busy with work to come home, she was actually preparing to have someone else’s baby. It was midnight. I sat on the couch, smoking one cigarette after another. The ashtray on the coffee table was overflowing with butts, and I let out a deep sigh. I clutched my phone, hesitating for a long time, scrolling back and forth through my contacts until I finally stopped on my wife’s name, Lizbeth Webster. I gritted my teeth and was just about to dial her number when the door suddenly swung open. I stubbed out my cigarette and stood up from the couch. I turned around and saw two people standing in the doorway. When I saw the man supporting Lizbeth, my eyes widened in surprise. It was the same man I’d seen with her at the hospital before. I stood there, rooted to the spot as if paralyzed. Lizbeth was drunk, her cheeks flushed, her clothes disheveled. She leaned against the man for support. That man’s face was a bit red. It looked like he’d had a fair amount to drink, too. He seemed surprised to see me home but still helped Lizbeth over to the couch, laying her down gently. “Mr. Webster, you’re home. Lizbeth said no one was here, so I brought her up,” he explained. “She had a bit too much to drink at a business dinner. If it’s not too much trouble, could you make her something warm to drink?” He turned toward the door, giving me a nod. “Goodbye, Mr. Webster.” I grabbed Lizbeth’s car keys from her bag and caught up to him, offering him a smile. “I noticed you’ve been drinking too. Let me drive you home.” He looked down. With only the porch light on, I couldn’t make out his expression. I thought he might come up with some excuse to refuse, but he nodded and agreed. I drove while he sat in the passenger seat. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and he happened to look back at me. “Mr. Webster, when are you and Lizbeth planning to have kids?” Hearing his question, I lowered my head, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “That’s up to Lizbeth. I don’t want to pressure her. We’ll just let things happen naturally.” He turned his head to look out the window and said thoughtfully, “Letting things happen naturally. That’s good.” After dropping him off, I leaned back in the driver’s seat, staring at the lit window across the street, a restless feeling churning inside me. I remembered there was a pack of cigarettes hidden in the glove compartment, something I’d stashed away secretly. Lizbeth didn’t like me smoking, so whenever we went out together, I never brought any. However, I had a strong craving, so I’d often hide a pack in the car and sneak a smoke when she wasn’t around. I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the glove compartment. A piece of A4 paper slipped out. I bent down to pick it up, and when I saw what was on it, a sharp pain shot through my head. I pressed a hand to my temple, my stomach churning violently. I pushed open the car door and stumbled out, crouching by the roadside, retching into the bushes. I dry-heaved for a long time, but only a little bit of stomach acid came out. That was when I remembered that I’d only eaten breakfast today. I wiped my mouth, wearing a bitter smile. I felt around in my pockets, but they were empty. Thinking about what was on that A4 paper, I clenched my fists. It was Lizbeth’s seven-week ultrasound scan. I hadn’t expected their baby to be that far along already.
Lizbeth and I first met back in college. At that time, I was quite the figure on campus, coming from a wealthy family, serving as the vice president of the student council, and being the captain of the basketball team. Plenty of girls were interested in me, and Lizbeth was one of them. Initially, I had no intention of getting into a relationship. I wanted to focus on my studies and personal interests, and after graduation, I planned to establish my career first. I knew my family would arrange a suitable marriage for me. I figured I’d just pick someone who seemed decent enough to marry. Because of this, I turned down a dozen girls, including Lizbeth. But she seemed completely captivated by me, persistently pursuing me for three years. During our senior year internship, Lizbeth and I unexpectedly ended up at the same company. It was a prestigious firm with incredibly high standards for even its interns. I hadn’t expected Lizbeth to make it in as well. That was the first time I really took notice of her. And it was also the first time I got to know her deeply. I discovered that she was incredibly disciplined. She was a diligent and smart girl. During our more than six months interning together, she never showed any signs of interest or confessed to me again. I thought she might have realized that we were unlikely to be together, so she threw herself entirely into her work. I did the same, pouring all my time into my tasks, hoping to secure a permanent position with the company before graduation. By the end of the first semester of our senior year, I didn’t get an offer from the company. But Lizbeth did. The company recognized her abilities. The boss admired her work so much that she was given a formal contract even before she graduated. That was the first time I felt the sting of failure. That sense of defeat made the second semester of my senior year particularly hard to endure. I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t want to leave that company, and I didn’t want to be outdone by Lizbeth. So, the year I graduated, I returned to the company with my resume. After several rounds of interviews, I finally made it to the last stage. During that interview, I saw Lizbeth again. She was so stunning that I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She sat in the middle of the company executives and smiled at me. “You’re so outstanding. Are you sure you want to join our company?” Looking into Lizbeth’s bright eyes, my heart raced. I hesitated for a moment, then clenched my fists and nodded. “I truly believe in the company’s values…” I said a lot, and by the end, I felt so nervous that my hands and feet were ice-cold. When I finished speaking, I glanced at Lizbeth. After a brief discussion with the other executives, they all stood up, leaving just Lizbeth and me in the conference room. Lizbeth got up and walked toward me with a smile. She bent down close to my ear and whispered, “I checked. This company allows office romances.” I stared at her in surprise. She raised an eyebrow, patted me on the shoulder, and gave me a playful smile. “On behalf of the HR department, welcome aboard.” From that day on, Lizbeth and I started a flirtatious relationship. Two years later, we officially got together, but Lizbeth planned to resign. I asked her why, confused. She said she wanted to have her own career, to make her mark in this city, and to rise above the rest. Seeing the determination in her eyes, I resigned from the job I loved and joined her in starting a business. We were fairly lucky. In about two years, we had our own company. Although it wasn’t very big, we had achieved financial freedom. That New Year’s Day, I proposed to Lizbeth. By the end of the following year, we were married. Now, we’d been married for four years. We’d been through the toughest times together. Life had been getting better and better, but then I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. I hadn’t figured out how to tell Lizbeth about this bad news, and she’d given me such a “surprise.” I couldn’t understand why she, the one who had pursued me in the first place, would betray our marriage in the most humiliating way.
By the time I got home, it was already past midnight. Lizbeth was lying on the sofa, tossing and turning in her sleep. Her short skirt had ridden up, exposing her legs. I sighed helplessly, grabbed a blanket, and draped it over her. Leaning down, I gazed at her heavily made-up face and shook my head. I couldn’t recall when she started favoring such bold makeup. Maybe it was the day I stepped down from the company, and she became the fierce CEO. She was always so strong-willed, needing to excel at everything, while I was more laid-back, preferring to go with the flow. Our biggest argument happened about a year and a half ago. The company was expanding rapidly. I suggested we slow down and take steady steps to avoid any mistakes that could lead to losses. But she thought I was too cautious, lacking in vision. She believed the company’s smooth sailing wasn’t just luck but a result of her relentless efforts. She even said she knew what she was doing and didn’t need me dictating how she should run things. That argument dragged on for a long time, and in the end, she even mentioned divorce. It was the harshest thing she’d ever said since we got married. After that fight, I gradually withdrew from the company, no longer involving myself in its affairs. To me, a peaceful home was more important than having a say in the company. Lizbeth preferred being in charge, so I stepped back and took on the role of her strongest support. After leaving the company, I noticed Lizbeth becoming increasingly busy, so much so that sometimes she wouldn’t come home for a month. I felt like a neglected wife locked away, waiting day after day for her return. Perhaps that’s when she changed. Maybe she had already stopped being faithful to our marriage back then. “Vince, don’t leave. Let’s have another drink,” Lizbeth mumbled, rolling over and reaching out toward me. Seeing her half-leaning out, trying to grab hold of me while calling out another man’s name, I took a step back. I yanked the blanket off her. I figured she wouldn’t need me covering her with a blanket anymore. I smoked in the bedroom all night long. I thought about it the whole night but couldn’t figure out how things had come to this. I pressed my throbbing head and stubbed out the cigarette on the windowsill. At dawn, I heard hurried footsteps from the living room, followed by the sound of the bedroom door being pushed open. Lizbeth, still in last night’s clothes, stood in the doorway, her brows furrowed in disgust. “Laurence, how many times have I told you? No smoking in the bedroom. Don’t you know I hate the smell of smoke? “And you left the cigarette butts on the windowsill? Do we not have an ashtray in this house? What’s happened to you? Where’s the clean and considerate man who never pissed me off?” Lizbeth was trembling with anger, her face twisted in frustration. I stood up and faced her. My head pounded, my stomach felt uneasy, and I was almost on the verge of throwing up. I clenched my fists and looked at Lizbeth. “I went to the hospital yesterday.” Lizbeth stared at me impatiently. “Don’t change the subject. I’m talking about why you never listen to me. Why do you always do the things I hate? When will you finally quit smoking?” “The doctor said my health isn’t looking good. I need more rest. I need to keep a calm mind. I need to…” Lizbeth cut me off with a sneer. “You need more rest? “Laurence, I’ve been supporting you for the past year and a half. You’ve done nothing but laze around at home like some rich lady. What right do you have to say you need more rest? “I’m warning you, if you smoke in the house again, I won’t come back.” She stormed over to the wardrobe, yanked out a couple of clothes, and didn’t even bother to look at me again. I lowered my eyes and let out a bitter chuckle. I thought to myself, “So, it’s really that obvious when someone stops loving you.” The contempt on Lizbeth’s face was obvious. With the clothes in her hands, she headed toward the door. I stood where I was and called out to her. “Let’s get a divorce.”
Lizbeth turned around in surprise, a mocking smile spreading across her face. “Laurence, are you out of your mind? Divorce? Don’t tell me you’re out of money and looking to get a piece of my assets through divorce. “I’m telling you right now, the company is in a critical growth phase and needs substantial funding. If you think you can get a divorce now, forget it. “If you’re really that bored, why don’t you go on a trip or something? It’ll save you from sitting around the house dreaming up nonsense.” Lizbeth stormed out, her footsteps echoing as she gathered her things outside. Hearing the sound, I rubbed my cheeks in frustration. I clenched my fist and slammed it onto the bed. I had only wanted to end our marriage, but to her, I was just some scoundrel trying to grab her wealth through divorce. I thought, “Well, if that is what she thought, then I’ll play along. The company was built by both Lizbeth and me through our combined efforts. There’s no reason I should suffer alone in silence while she and her new lover enjoy a life of luxury.” I picked up my phone and called my lawyer friend, Matthew Deleon. “Matthew, I need some legal advice.” After hanging up, a sharp pain shot through my head. I raised my hand and tapped my skull, forcing myself to stand up from the bed. When I was a kid, my dad always told me that as long as my will was strong enough, nothing could bring me down. This tumor in my head… It was just an inconvenience. It gave me headaches and soured my mood. However, I believed that as long as I held on tight to my willpower, I could pull through. Leaning against the wardrobe, I reached out for a shirt. I stared at the shirts hanging in the closet, but suddenly my vision blurred. I couldn’t even make out their shapes. I rubbed my eyes, but the fog didn’t lift. Frowning in frustration, I grabbed at whatever shirt I could touch. Just as I got hold of a sleeve, everything went black, and I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, the world outside was shrouded in darkness. Lying there, I stared up at the ceiling and fumbled for my phone beside me. Bringing the screen close to my eyes, I noticed several missed calls from Matthew. I frowned. Just as I was about to call him back, Lizbeth’s name flashed on the screen. I squinted to make sure it was really her before finally picking up. “Laurence, I don’t care what crazy thing you want to do, but don’t let your friends keep calling me. “I’ve had a long enough day at work as it is. I don’t have the time, nor the obligation, to help your friends track you down. “There’s a lot going on at the company this month, so I’m not coming home. And when I do come back, I expect you to have quit smoking.” Lizbeth hung up before I could get a word out. I opened my mouth, but no sound came. I rubbed my eyes hard, but my vision remained as blurry as ever. The doctor had warned me that the tumor in my brain was in a terrible spot. It was pressing on both my optic and motor nerves. In the future, I might not only lose my sight but also end up in a wheelchair, completely disabled. Thinking about this, I immediately dialed Matthew’s number. I needed to sort out the financial matters with Lizbeth as quickly as possible. I wanted to be at my best when I divorced her.
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