My Son Died and I Got Cancer, My Husband Regretted It

His hand froze in mid-air, the tenderness in his eyes turning into awkwardness, then disgust.

"Sandra, you blocked me, talked about divorce, and now you're following me. You don't have anything else to do?"

I avoided his gaze, pulling my eyes away.

Jennifer approached me gently.

"Sorry, Sandra, Shawn was worried I might do something rash, so he took me out to relax. Don't misunderstand," she said innocently, playing the victim as if I were the troublemaker.

I pointed to their closely touching shoulders. "Are you sure he's not your husband?"

Shawn frowned, slightly irritated.

"What are you talking about? There was a leak of radioactive materials at the lab, and I'm just cooperating with the police in the investigation with Jennifer. You make it sound like I'm cheating."

I didn't care anymore.

I leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes to rest.

But all I could see were flashes of Greyson trembling in pain during his spinal tap.

Tears welled up involuntarily, and Shawn, mistaking my sorrow for something else, softened his tone.

"Yes, I was a bit harsh that day. I just didn't expect you to curse our son to get me back.

"Today, I wanted to ask about our son's condition, but I noticed you blocked me."

"Yeah, it's all my fault," I replied blankly, turning my head away.

Jennifer started blaming herself.

"Sandra, even though you don't like me, there's no need to curse your own son.

"Forget it, Shawn. It's all my fault for making a mistake at work, which led to trouble for you. Otherwise, Sandra wouldn't have fabricated this leukemia story about Greyson," Jennifer added, her false sympathy evident.

Unable to hold back, I retorted, "It's all your fault. Why don't you just go die?"

"Sandra, are you crazy? Why are you getting angry with Jennifer?"

Shawn glared at me.

"Yeah, I'm crazy to death! Are you happy now?" I snapped back.

Jennifer urged Shawn not to be impulsive, and he huffed, sitting beside me in silence.

After a moment, he seemed to notice a change in my demeanor and attempted to ease the tension.

"Is Greyson upset? It's okay, that kid is easy to please. Just buy him a big Superman when I get back."

My heart ached at his perfunctory words. "No need."

He thought Greyson was easy to please, but in reality, my son just loved him more.

It had been six months.

Greyson slept holding his Superman toy, clutched it during his spinal tap, and even held onto it tightly in his last moments.

I could never forget the tears in his eyes when he comforted me, saying, "Mom, do you believe in light? Superman is light. As long as it's here, Dad is here too."

But that light, for both my son and me, had completely extinguished.

Before Shawn could say more, it was Jennifer's turn for her appointment, and she headed into the consultation room.

Seeing that I ignored him, Shawn sat down beside me and struck up a conversation. "Which examination room is Greyson in? Why hasn't she come out yet?"

I didn't want to talk to him at all.

The nurse called my name, asking if my hospital admission paperwork was ready.

I informed her that my mother had the documents and had gone to buy water, but she would be back soon.

Seeing me organizing the papers, the nurse entered the room first.

Shawn glanced nervously at the ward and was relieved to see Greyson wasn't inside.

"You scared me for a moment. I thought something had happened to Greyson. Yeah, at this time, he should be at kindergarten.

"But what's wrong with Mom? Blood pressure acting up again?" he inquired, receiving no response from me.

Just then, Jennifer emerged from the consultation room, holding her shoulder, looking even more frail.

"Not a big issue, just some stomach ulcers. The doctor recommended a few days of injections to prevent inflammation and potential cancer," she explained.

Shawn looked concerned, saying, "It's not convenient for you to keep running back and forth. Why not just stay in the hospital for a few days?"

Jennifer hesitated before saying, "That's what I was thinking, but there's only one bed left, and Sandra..."

Shawn nodded reassuringly at her, then called out to me.

"Sandra, why don't you take Mom to our place to stay? It would be convenient for care, and we can give the bed to Jennifer since she's alone at home with no one to look after her."

I was beyond angry at this point and replied nonchalantly, "Why don't you just go to her place yourself?"

Shawn's expression turned slightly displeased.

"Sandra, what are you saying?

"Jennifer isn't feeling well. The doctors say she's at risk of stomach cancer. Don't be so selfish, alright?"

In the past, I always considered his needs first. It seemed like the right thing to do.

But now, refusing to yield my ground became selfishness.

"And what about you? Sacrificing your wife for another woman, is that not selfish?" I shot back unapologetically.

Jennifer, sensing the growing discomfort from the onlookers' gaze, said with a touch of annoyance, "Let it go. Sandra is possessive. Every little conversation between you and me sets her off. Let's not push her further."

I couldn't resist a sardonic smile. "You've been monopolizing someone else's husband for over two months, playing the harlot and now pretending to be virtuous. Is your shamelessness really that thick?"

Without warning, Shawn's palm met my cheek with a loud smack.

"What are you shouting about? Aren't you embarrassed?"

My ears were ringing.

The pain in my chest, coupled with the sting of his slap, sent spasms through my body.

I tried to retaliate with all my might, but he grabbed my wrist and flung it aside, his grip firm.

"Don't push it. If you don't want it, just say so. Stop this now," he warned, the surrounding crowd murmuring, with security stepping in to restrain him.

I staggered towards him, facing that familiar yet distant face.

A deep abyss seemed to sit in my chest, filled with despair.

"Just go ahead and kill me," I whispered, a plea for release.

Seeing my despair, Shawn seemed to regret his actions, a hint of embarrassment creeping in.

He shook his hand.

"You seem out of your mind. Forget it, I won't talk to you. I'll speak to Mom later."

He then helped Jennifer to sit beside him, reassuring her, "Don't worry, her mother is generous, treats me like her own son. One bed spot won't be an issue."

The pain on my face reminded me that I was still alive.

I covered my cheek, moving past them into the hospital room with my pale face.

Inside the ward, the nurse had prepared the medication.

"After the injection, you might experience some side effects. If you're uncomfortable, just call me.

"You're young, with proactive treatment, the survival rate after five years is quite high," she offered words of encouragement, but I could only manage a bitter smile.

After Greyson's death, I had ceased to care about life.

"You better shave your head.

"It'll be harder to see your hair fall out in clumps.

"What's wrong? Feeling the pain?"

She adjusted the IV drip speed, but I quickly wiped away tears, shaking my head.

Greyson used to compliment me on my long hair.

The thought of never hearing his praises again made my heart ache.

The medication flowed slowly into my body, knowing its path, while I remained uncertain of my own future.

"Mom, you're back. Where's Greyson?" Shawn's voice came from outside the door.