Diagnosed with Cancer, I ran away from my Cheater Husband

Not a single visit. Not a single text. Not a single word from Jameson.

I stayed in the hospital for the rest of the day, wrapped in silence and the faint scent of antiseptic. My body ached, my skin still tender from the burns, and my heart... I couldn’t even tell if it was still beating properly. Everything inside me felt quiet. Empty.

Until the lawyer’s message arrived.

“Your divorce has been finalized, Miss Hartwell. The paperwork is complete and will be mailed to both parties.”

I stared at the message for a long moment. My fingers trembled, but not from grief. From relief.

Finally.

Another message pinged moments later—this one from Jameson’s grandfather.

“I expect to see you at my birthday celebration tomorrow. Wear something elegant. I have something to discuss with you.”

I typed back quickly.

“I’ll be there.”

But I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t step into that house again—not with Rose parading around as the future Mrs. Hartwell. Not with Jameson pretending to still own pieces of me.

I had no intention of going. I would send a gift and vanish.

That was the plan.

When I was discharged from the hospital the next morning, I didn’t head straight to the hotel like I’d planned. Instead, I lingered in the hallway, waiting for the nurse to return my phone. As soon as I had it, I clutched my bag and turned toward the exit—

Only to be shoved back against the wall.

“Did you really file a case of arson against me?” Rose’s voice hissed close to my face, eyes wild. “You’re insane.”

I pushed her away, staggering. “You tried to kill me, Rose.”

She laughed. Laughed.

“Yeah? Well, too bad it didn’t work. Guess I’ll have to finish the job myself.”

She lunged at me again, grabbing my hair. I didn’t think—I reacted. I yanked hers back. We stumbled, locked in a pathetic fight that reeked of anger and years of buried pain.

“You stole everything from me!” I shouted. “My husband. My home. My future. But I’m not the same woman you thought you broke.”

Rose smirked through the pain. “He never loved you, Diana. He pitied you. You were just the key to the Hartwell fortune. And you still couldn’t give him what he wanted.”

“Because he doesn’t deserve it,” I spat.

That’s when the door slammed open.

“What the hell is going on?” Jameson barked.

Perfect timing.

Rose immediately burst into tears, throwing herself dramatically to the side. “She attacked me, Jameson! I came to say sorry. I just wanted to ask her to drop the case. But she... she wouldn’t even listen—”

“You liar!” I shouted, but Jameson had already made up his mind.

“Stop humiliating us!” he yelled at me. “Drop the damn case, Diana! You’re giving this family a bad name!”

“She tried to kill me!” I screamed, pointing at Rose.

Jameson scoffed. “It was an accident. You don’t even have proof. And now you’re turning into some paranoid lunatic? You should be thanking her for taking care of me when you were useless.”

I stared at him. Dead in the eyes.

I could’ve screamed again.

I could’ve argued.

But I didn’t.

What was the point? There was no love left here. Just ashes.

“Let’s go,” Jameson snapped, grabbing my wrist. “The house is still a mess and you’re going to clean it. Since you’re so good at destroying things, you can start by fixing that.”

“I’m not even fully healed,” I said quietly.

“I don’t care. You owe me. You owe me for our child.”

His grip was cruel, but I didn’t flinch.

On the way home, Rose sat beside him, stroking his arm and whispering things I couldn’t hear. Her eyes, however, never left me. She was gloating. She had won.

She could have it all.

Because I was leaving.

The house smelled like burnt plastic and damp wood. The fire hadn’t consumed it all—only my side of the master bedroom. The one they knew I used the most. How convenient.

He’d expected me to come back here and be their maid.

And I did.

Just for now.

I picked up a broom. Swept the floor. Scrubbed what I could. I did it with bleeding palms and broken pride. But my mind was already elsewhere. Already packing my bags.

Later, after cleaning, I took all the things Jameson had ever given me—the dresses, the perfume, the fake love letters, even our wedding album—and dumped them in the metal drum out back. I lit a match and watched it all go up in flames.

Rose appeared behind me, her arms folded. “Good. Burn it all. Burn the lies you wrapped yourself in.”

I didn’t respond.

She stepped closer, tilting her head.

“So? When are you going to leave? Or are you going to cling around here forever pretending to be a wife when you never were?”

I turned to her, smiling softly. “Don’t worry. You’ll never see me again.”

I leaned close to whisper in her ear.

“Enjoy being ‘Miss Hartwell.’ But remember… it was a title bought with ashes. I’ll make sure you’ll never be happy.”

And I walked back into the house for the last time.