My Wife Lied to Steal My Kidney

Of course, my name was on the list too.

[Callum Lister – suitable gender, suitable age, high kidney match. Jordan felt great after using one. Can take the second one. Compensation: none. Economical and affordable.]

I stared at those words, my stomach twisting. Economical and affordable.

That was all I was to her. Not her husband. Not someone she cared about. Just a convenient organ donor with a perfect match.

I felt a strange kind of numbness settle in, like my brain refused to process the betrayal all at once. Without thinking, I printed out the list, along with the divorce agreement I had prepared earlier.

Then, I sat down on the couch and stayed there all night. By morning, my back ached from sitting so long, but my mind was clearer.

Yolanda walked in, assuming I had just woken up early. She didn’t suspect a thing. As usual, she placed a bowl of porridge in front of me.

"Here, I tried a new recipe today. Let me know if you like it," she said with a smile. Because of my artificial kidney, I could only eat soft food. She made sure I had something warm and nutritious every morning, always switching up the ingredients so I wouldn’t get bored.

I used to think it was sweet. Now, it just made me feel sick.

She noticed me hesitating and frowned. "Callum, are you okay? Why aren’t you eating? Do you want me to make something else?"

My fingers brushed against the divorce papers in my pocket. "Yolanda, we need to—"

Before I could finish, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and instantly, her whole expression changed. A gentle expression appeared in her face as she quickly picked up. "Hello? Mm… Of course, I didn’t forget. Everything is ready. See you later."

She turned back to me with an apologetic smile. "Callum, something urgent came up at work. I have to go in and it might take a while. If you need anything, let’s talk when I get back, okay?"

She grabbed her coat and left before I could get another word in. I let out a slow breath, staring at the untouched porridge in front of me.

Even now, after everything, I wasn’t her priority. Even now, I was waiting for her.

That evening, my phone buzzed with a text. [Callum, it’s me. My phone is dead. Come to the Crown Hotel, I have a surprise for you.]

Yolanda.

I checked the date, it was my birthday. I almost laughed. Perfect timing. I was going to see her anyway—I still had things to say.

When I arrived at the hotel, I overheard two waiters talking near the entrance. "Ms. Sinclair really goes all out for her husband, huh?" one of them said, sounding impressed.

"Right? She booked the entire top floor and filled it with roses. Not just any roses, either, some super rare variety. She even had them flown in on private jets. Can you imagine? Just because her husband's favorite flower is roses!"

"You see that watch Ms. Sinclair just gave her husband? That thing could probably buy a whole country!" one of the waiters gushed.

The other sighed. "I know, right? I heard she got it as a welcome-home gift just for him. Seriously, how lucky can a guy get?"

And just like that, it all made sense why Yolanda never gave me roses and why she used sunflowers when she proposed.

I had asked for a rose once. Just one. She laughed, said they were too fragile, too delicate—not for me.

Now I knew the truth. It wasn’t that I didn’t suit roses. It was that Jordan did and to her, I simply wasn’t worth them.

The realization sat heavy in my chest as I stepped into the hall. That was when I saw them.

Yolanda, standing in the middle of a sea of roses, carefully fastening an expensive watch onto Jordan’s wrist. She adjusted it with a tenderness I hadn’t seen from her in years, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

They looked like they belonged there. like they were the perfect couple. Jordan noticed me then. His brows pulled together in confusion before he let out a dramatic scoff.

"What’s up with security tonight? Since when do they let beggars in?" His voice carried over the crowd, drawing even more attention my way. "Get him out of here before he ruins the party Yolanda threw for me!"

Laughter followed. Whispers spread like wildfire. I could feel their eyes on me; mocking, judging. Picking me apart like I was nothing but a joke.

"Wait a second," someone sneered, "isn’t that Ms. Sinclair’s useless husband?"

"Yeah, I heard he lost both kidneys. Now he just leeches off her, waiting to die."

"If you ask me, a guy like that should just end it already instead of dragging other people down."

"Seriously, just look at him. Weak as hell, a total disgrace. And compared to Jordan? It’s embarrassing. He must’ve tricked Ms. Sinclair into marrying him or something. And now he’s out here, making a fool of himself."

More laughter. More whispers. And Yolanda just stood there, she didn’t deny it. Didn’t defend me. She didn’t say a damn thing.