My Wife's Former Lover Set Our House on Fire When I Got Cancer

She let out a cold laugh before her voice turned icy.

"I’m giving you one hour. Get out of your ward and apologize to Roman immediately."

"Otherwise, we’re getting a divorce."

Before I could respond, Roman’s weak, hoarse voice drifted through the phone.

"Serena, don’t blame James. It’s my fault. If he says I set the fire, just let him believe it. Don’t argue with him … his health is poor. You’ll only make things worse for him."

Serena let out an annoyed sigh.

"You’re too kind," she said, her tone filled with disappointment.

"That’s why he keeps walking all over you. We knew each other first, Roman. Who does James think he is? What right does he have to attack you?"

Her voice turned sharp as she continued, "Don’t worry. This time, I’ll make sure he remembers his place!"

Their conversation was sickening, but I remained unfazed.

Calmly, I interrupted, "Fine. Let’s get a divorce. I agree. I’ll send you the papers right away. Make sure you sign them."

For a moment, there was only stunned silence.

Serena clearly hadn’t expected me to be the one to end things. Just as she was about to explode, I hung up. Before I could block her number, my phone was flooded with messages.

[Serena: Where are you? James, have you lost your mind today? I ignored your pathetic health before, but now you’re pushing it? Maybe you were just pretending to be sick all along!]

[Serena: Do you really think I won’t divorce you? You’ll be the one begging on your knees when you regret it!]

[Serena: Also, take down the news online! If you don’t, I’ll expose your true face to everyone!]

I didn’t bother reading further. I deleted the messages and blocked her number. Even though I had suffered through betrayal in my past life, it still hurt. For just a fleeting moment, I felt the sting of it again.

As the nurses entered to change my dressings, they chatted amongst themselves, oblivious to my presence.

"The patient downstairs is so handsome and his wife is stunning," one of them gushed.

"They’re such a perfect match! I heard they were childhood sweethearts. A real campus love story."

Another nurse sighed dreamily as she said, "You’re behind on the latest gossip. Miss Moon actually paid to reserve a window seat in the hospital cafeteria, just so she could personally cook soup for her husband every day!"

"She’s so devoted," a third chimed in.

"I went to apply medicine to him earlier, but she wouldn’t let me. She insisted on doing it herself. They’re such a perfect couple!"

Their words buzzed in my ears like an irritating drone.

I stared blankly at the IV needle piercing the bruised skin of my hand. Pain and itching radiated from my burned flesh, but nothing compared to the hollowness inside me. The moment the nurses left, I felt like I could finally breathe again.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t draw in a full breath.

That evening, the doctor came in with grim news.

"The fire has worsened your condition," he said, flipping through my chart.