The Year I Died Was When He Loved Me Most

Ten years. That's how long it took for pure love to curdle into pure hate. And now, Ethan Yates was handing me divorce papers.

"Ethan, I went to the hospital today, I—"

"The surgery failed, Nina." His voice could have frozen fire. "How I wish it was you going to die. You and that bitch mother of yours."

I looked down at the papers. He was walking away with nothing—no assets, no property. He'd rather be penniless than stay married to me one more day.

His eyes found the scar on my face. Nearly eight centimeters of raised, puckered skin.

"Consider this money compensation for that." He gestured at my cheek. "I won't stop there."

But he didn't know the one who was about to stop... was my heart. Permanently.

——

"Ethan, can you give me one more month? Just one month. After that, I won't bother you ever again."

A cold laugh scraped out of him.

"Aren't you tired of these games? What, you're going to die?" His lip curled. "Nina, if you do, remember to take your mom with you. Otherwise, I'm not sure what I'll do."

My head snapped up. I shook it frantically, eyes burning.

"It has nothing to do with my mom. Ethan, what happened back then—"

"Enough!"

He cut me off like a guillotine. His gaze locked onto my scar, and something flickered across his face. Something almost human.

I was eighteen when I started singing at Twilight Bar to survive. Ethan was a soccer prodigy on scholarship. When a group of thugs cornered him in an alley, I was the one who stepped in front of that shattered liquor bottle. The scar never faded.

To give me a better life, Ethan abandoned his athletic career and took over his family's business. He said he wanted to give me a home.

In our fifth year together, the night we got our marriage license, Ethan found proof of his father's affair. The other woman was my mother.

What he never knew—what he refused to hear—was that Mr. Yates Sr. had hidden his entire family from her. He was a serial cheater. His wife had forgiven him dozens of times, but this scandal was the last straw.

Mrs. Yates jumped off a building. She survived as a vegetable, paralyzed for life.

My mother and I became the laughingstock of all Northgate City.

"Ethan." My voice cracked. "Am I pretty?"

He looked at me. Cold. Silent. Not a single word.

Once, he would have pulled me close and sworn he loved every part of me—especially this scar. He used to trace it with his fingertips, look at my too-thin frame, and cry.

I never got my answer.

His phone shattered the silence between us. Alex Pruitt. His assistant.

"Ethan, your mom's condition isn't good. Hurry to the hospital."

His expression hardened. When he looked at me again, only disgust remained.

"Just sign the papers and leave them here. I have to go."

He was gone before I could breathe.

Minutes later, a message from Alex Pruitt lit up my screen.

"Nina, did Ethan leave? One phone call—that's all it takes for him to come running to me. Haven't you figured out who matters more?"

I laughed, hollow and bitter.

Yeah. He couldn't wait to get to her. He barely had patience left for me.

Five years of marriage, and Alex Pruitt had sent me countless photos of Ethan—at work, asleep on the couch, moments that should have been mine.

My phone rang again. Alex Matthews. My attending physician. My childhood friend.

"Nina, I contacted the top medical team abroad. If everything goes well, you can hold on for at least three more months. We'll figure something out."

I smiled softly.

"No need, Alex. Thank you."

His voice turned urgent.

"Nina, if you don't do the surgery, you won't even have a month—"