My Father Didn't Know I Had Cancer Until I Died

Just a week ago, I suddenly coughed up blood while in the bathroom. The image haunted me—it was the same scene I had witnessed when my mother fell ill and eventually passed away. A wave of intense unease rushed over me and I immediately went to the hospital for a check-up.

When the results came back, my worst fears were confirmed.

The doctor, with a regretful look, informed me that my condition was likely genetic, passed down from my mother’s side. She had died of lung cancer as well. But what made things worse was that the blood disorder I had lived with all my life had aggravated the cancer’s progression.

Honestly, I had been feeling off for a while, but I didn’t take it seriously. After my mom’s death, I had developed a fear of doctors, avoiding hospitals at all costs. My father was hardly home anymore and never noticed my pale complexion or how much I was struggling.

“The best course of action would be chemotherapy,” the doctor recommended gently, “but if you choose not to undergo treatment, you might not even have two months left.”

In this world, my father was the only family I had left. I wanted to tell him about my condition, but it happened to be the night of the company’s big celebration party. And after that night, his attitude toward me grew even more distant than before.

As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I thought I heard someone calling my name. When I opened my eyes again, all I could see was white. For a moment, I truly believed I had died.

Hayden was the first person I saw when I woke up. He rushed to help me sit up, concern written all over his face. I smiled at him, trying to reassure him, but his expression suddenly turned serious.

“Why don’t you tell me that you were sick?” he demanded, his eyes wide with shock. Then, as if realizing something, he looked at me, panicked. “You haven’t tell Mr. Murdoch, have you?”

My silence answered his question. Before I could respond, Hayden looked like he had been hit with a bombshell.

“How could you not tell your family about something this serious? I can’t believe you’re still as stubborn as you were back then.” His voice softened as he continued, “Mrs. Murdoch wouldn’t have let this happen if she were still here. Before I could protest, Hayden was already pulling out his phone, determined to call my father. Seeing this, I tried to reach out to stop him, but he stepped away, staying out of reach. My arms and legs felt weak and I couldn’t even manage to get out of bed. All I could do was lie there, helplessly anxious.

“Mr. Murdoch, I have something important to tell you about Valerie. She is dying from—”

“She could die out there for all I care! It has nothing to do with me anymore!”