Till Death Do Us Part

I had a diary. If I wrote down a wish on my birthday, it would come true within a week. But every wish came with a price.

On my 18th birthday, I wrote with a heart full of hope: [I wish to be Dominik's girlfriend.]

A decade later, on my 28th birthday, as my body weakened and my soul hollowed, I opened that same diary one final time. My hand shook, but not with anticipation. With the last of my strength, I wrote: [I wish for Dominik to be with me in hell.]

***

Three months before my 28th birthday, I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer.

That very same day, I found out that the man I had loved for eight years was at the hospital, gently supporting his mistress during a pregnancy checkup.

I stood in the sterile corridor, my back pressed against the cold, white wall outside the doctor's office. My hands trembled as I dialed Dominik's number. The faint smell of antiseptic stung my nose as my heartbeat thundered in my ears.

Through the small glass window, I saw him standing next to Bella, his hand resting protectively on her lower back. When he glanced at his phone and saw my name, he declined the call without hesitation.

The sharp rejection cut deeper than I expected. Tears blurred my vision, spilling onto my cheeks despite my efforts to hold them back. With stubborn determination, I pressed the call button again and again, each unanswered ring tightening the knot in my chest.

On the sixth attempt, he finally picked up. His voice was calm, almost too casual. "Honey, I'm in a meeting. I'll hang up first, okay?"

"Dominik..." My voice cracked, weak and unsteady.

Perhaps he heard something in my tone, because his voice softened, tinged with concern. "Hey, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

Through the window, I watched Bella frown, her lips forming a pout as she leaned closer to him. Dominik gently tucked her hair behind her ear, whispering something that made her smile. My stomach churned, my chest tightening with each passing second. Eight years of marriage replayed in my mind like a cruel joke.

"Honey, I still have things to do. I'll hang up now," he said, his tone brisk.

The line went dead. My legs felt unsteady as I stumbled away, the hospital walls closing in around me. My phone buzzed in my hand—messages lighting up the screen one after another.

It was Bella.

The first was an attachment: a prenatal exam report with her name on it.

The second made my blood run cold: [Nadia, are you still clinging to Dominik? You're pathetic!]

And the third shattered what was left of my composure: [Don't you feel ashamed, for being his wife but can't give him kids?! Know your place!]

My hands shook uncontrollably. The screen blurred as fresh tears flooded my eyes. My knees buckled and I grabbed onto the wall for support, but it wasn't enough. I crumpled to the floor, my sobs echoing faintly in the empty corridor.

When I finally dragged myself home, my body felt like a shell. I forced down a few bites of noodles, though each mouthful tasted like ash.

***

At 1 a.m., Dominik slipped into bed as quietly as he could. The faint rustle of sheets roused me from my fitful sleep—or at least, I pretended it did.

"Why are you back so late?" I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying.

He pressed a kiss to my earlobe, his tone laced with apology. "Did I wake you? Sorry, work's been busy."

I turned to face him, reaching out to touch his face in the darkness. My fingers grazed his cheek and for a fleeting moment, I wished I could believe the words he said. "Dominik, let's have kids."

His hand found mine, squeezing gently. The same answer he had given me for the past five years fell from his lips. "I don't want to put you through the hardship of labor. Besides, isn't it nice with just the two of us? I don't want to fight with some kids for my wife's attention."

Once, those words had warmed my heart. Now, they felt like a dagger twisted deeper with every syllable. My chest ached, the pain sharp and unrelenting. In the darkness, I turned away and quietly wiped my tears on the pillowcase.

"Honey, have you lost weight?" he asked suddenly, his hand wrapping around my wrist.

For a moment, I hesitated. Should I feel relief that he had finally noticed? Or should I mourn that it had taken 20 pounds and a diagnosis for him to realize?

I took a shaky breath, turning my hand to clasp his. "Dominik, I'm sick. It's—"

Before I could finish, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. Bella's name glowed on the screen.

I froze, watching as he sat up abruptly, his attention fixed entirely on the phone.

"Something important came up at work," he said, already getting out of bed. "I need to go."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the room in suffocating silence. I curled into myself, clutching my knees as the pain radiated through my body.

***

The next day, I spent an hour layering makeup to mask my pale complexion. By the time Bella arrived at the café, I had already drained two cups of coffee.

She sauntered in, her hand resting on her belly like it was a crown. Her smile was smug, a glimmer of triumph in her eyes. "I'm pretty far along now," she said, sliding into the chair across from me. "Going out isn't as easy as it used to, so I hope you don't mind if I'm a little late."

I met her gaze, my voice steady, though my nails dug into my palms beneath the table. "If it's that hard for you to go out, you should just rest at home. Why did you ask to see me?"