My Wife's Choice That Nearly Killed Me

To make my dialysis treatments easier, I rented the hospital’s closest parking space—at a steep price.

But every time it rained, my wife’s childhood friend would beg for it, claiming his asthma couldn’t handle a dash through the rain. His eyes would glisten with practiced misery.

I always refused.

“There’s a public lot right next door. Just a few steps away. Why do you have to take mine?”

When my wife found out, she exploded.

“Can’t you show a little compassion? He had an asthma attack and nearly died on the road!”

I frowned.

“He has his own car, but he chooses to get out in the rain just to take my spot. How is that my fault? Besides, I pay for that space. First come, first served.”

She paused, guilt flickering across her face.

“Sorry. I overreacted.”

After that, she started driving me herself—rain or shine.

Then came the day my kidneys failed. I was in agony, needing urgent treatment.

Instead of heading straight to the hospital, she circled the city for three hours. By the time we stopped, the best window for treatment had passed.

On the hospital’s massive lobby screen, I saw her clinging to Gareth Yates, her childhood sweetheart, her lips curled into a cruel smile.

“Didn’t you say it’s first come, first served? No dialysis beds now. Let’s see how long you last.”

——

A stabbing pain ripped through me. I grabbed her arm.

“Liora, please! Take me in—I’m dying!”

She shook me off like I was dirt on her sleeve.

“What’s the rush? Gareth’s asthma hurts a hundred times worse than whatever you’re feeling.”

The car jerked to a stop. I looked out the window.

This wasn’t a hospital. It was an empty, underground parking garage.

"Liora, are you out of your mind?!”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she flicked on the car’s display. The live feed from the hospital’s blood purification chamber lit up the screen. In the very bed I’d reserved, Gareth lay comfortably, surrounded by attentive nurses.

Liora’s gaze softened—for him. “Gareth’s having a severe attack. He’s in critical condition. I’ll have to use your place.”

My stomach dropped.

“You planned this.”

Her smile turned razor-sharp.

“You said it yourself—first come, first served. So… wait here.”

The pain made my vision blur.

“Then take me to another hospital! Please!”

She laughed, low and cold.

“Why should I spend money on a useless burden like you?”

She twisted the A/C to its coldest setting, icy air slicing through me. My body shook violently, pain ripping my abdomen apart.

She lit a slim cigarette. The bitter smoke burned my throat, sending me into fits of coughing—each spasm a knife in my kidneys. I stared at her profile, searching for the woman I knew.

“Liora… our three years together…”

“Three years?” she scoffed. “Gareth said he saw you hugging another woman. Don’t talk to me about us now.”

“What are you talking about? I never—”

“Enough!” She whipped around, her eyes blazing.

“Gareth was sick and you left him in the rain with a fever. Now, it’s your turn to feel his pain.”

She slammed the door, locking me inside that freezing, airless tomb.

On the screen, Gareth looked straight into the camera, a smug smile curling his lips. He lifted his hand and waved at me.

I don’t know how long I drifted in and out, pain gnawing at my mind—until the door was suddenly wrenched open by a powerful force.