After Daughter's Loss, Divorce

I had just moved into my new apartment when my condition suddenly took a turn for the worse. The pain was searing, as if my head would explode. Cold sweat soaked through me as I collapsed to the floor, curling up in agony. The doctors had already informed me—I had a brain tumor, and it had turned malignant. My time might be limited.

That's why I needed to leave Adrian. The thought of my tombstone reading "his wife" was unbearable. He repulsed me, and I despised myself for staying with him for so long. I fought against the pain with all I had, but eventually, I succumbed and lost consciousness.

Before fading into darkness, an image of Seraphina in a hospital bed came to mind. On the day of the accident, my illness had flared up. She was so small, her tears falling as she desperately wiped my sweat and insisted on calling her father for help. I tried to reach out, but all I heard was the cold, busy signal on the line. Seraphina decided to find him herself. I couldn't stop her; she ran out so quickly. And then came the accident.

When I came to, night had already fallen. It dawned on me how long it had been since I'd stepped outside. I forced myself to get up and went out. The evening breeze was cool, gently caressing my skin. As I wandered down the street, watching the bustling crowd, I felt utterly disconnected from the world around me.

I walked aimlessly until I found myself in front of a shopping mall. Seeing the display of stuffed animals, I thought of Seraphina. She used to love them, but Adrian never cared for them, so he never bought her any. I went inside and chose a small plush bunny. Just as I was about to pay, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye.

In a jewelry store not far from me, Adrian and Clementine Dixon were walking out, hand in hand. Clementine was beaming, wearing the very sweater I had lovingly knitted for Adrian. Each stitch was a piece of my heart, now worn by another woman.

A wave of bitterness coursed through me, yet there was also a sense of liberation. Adrian had hurt me so many times over the years. By now, I should have relinquished all hope. With Thanksgiving approaching, it was all the more apparent—our time as a family had truly ended.