When My Fiancé Chose His Mistress Over My Cancer

Reign picked a Korean BBQ place in Capitol Hill. The kind with individual grills at each table and servers who moved fast and talked faster. I sat across from him and watched smoke curl up from the meat he was turning with metal tongs.

"You're not eating," he said.

I looked down at my plate. "I'm eating."

"You moved a piece of lettuce from one side to the other. That's not eating."

I picked up my chopsticks. Put them down again.

Reign flipped the meat. He didn't push. That was the thing about Reign. He noticed everything but he didn't crowd you with it.

Then I heard the laugh.

I knew that laugh. I'd heard it for six years. Across dinner tables and in movie theaters and on Sunday mornings when he was reading something on his phone that he never bothered to share with me.

I turned my head.

Kyle was three tables over. Ayleen was next to him, leaning in close, her hand on his arm. They were sharing a plate. He fed her a piece of beef with his chopsticks. She laughed again and covered her mouth with her hand.

My chest went tight.

Reign followed my gaze. His jaw shifted.

"Well," he said. "That's unfortunate timing."

Kyle looked up. Our eyes met.

He froze for half a second. Then he smiled. Actually smiled. Like he'd been waiting for this. Like this was the moment I was supposed to see what I was missing and come crawling back.

Ayleen saw me too. She sat up straighter. Her hand stayed on his arm.

I looked away. I picked up my water glass. My hand was shaking.

Reign set down his tongs. He leaned back in his chair and spoke at full volume.

"Honestly," he said, "the upgrade is impressive."

I blinked.

Reign looked directly at me, but his voice carried across the restaurant. "You went from dating a man with the emotional depth of a parking meter to being free. Congratulations."

Someone at the table next to us snorted into their drink.

Kyle's face went red. Actually red. He stood up halfway, then sat back down like he couldn't decide what to do.

Ayleen choked on her water. She grabbed her napkin and pressed it to her mouth, coughing.

I stared at Reign.

He picked up his chopsticks and went back to the grill like nothing had happened. "The pork belly's done. You should eat some before I finish it."

I almost smiled. Almost.

But my hand was still shaking when I lifted my water glass. Reign saw it. His eyes flicked to my hand, then to my face. Something changed in his expression. Something I couldn't read.

He didn't say anything.

But I felt it. The weight of being seen.

We left twenty minutes later. Kyle and Ayleen were still there. I didn't look at them on the way out.

Reign walked me to my car. "You okay to drive?"

"I'm fine," I said.

He looked at me for a long moment. "You keep saying that."

I unlocked my car. "Because it's true."

"Nori."

I stopped.

"If you need anything," he said quietly. "I mean it. Anything."

I nodded. I got in the car and drove away before he could see my face.

Three days later, I had a follow-up scan at Seattle General.

Kyle texted me the night before. *I'll drive you.*

I stared at the message. I should have said no. Should have told him I didn't need him.

But I was tired. So tired. And the idea of taking the bus to the hospital by myself felt like too much.

*Ok,* I texted back.

He picked me up at nine. He didn't get out of the car. Just texted *here* from the curb.

I got in. He was wearing sunglasses even though it was overcast.

"Thanks," I said.

He shrugged. "It's fine."

We didn't talk the whole drive.

The scan took forty minutes. Afterward, I felt wrong. My stomach was cramping. My head was light.

I went to the restroom. Locked myself in a stall.

The nausea hit like a fist.

I dropped to my knees. Vomited into the toilet. Once. Twice. The third time, I saw blood.

Bright red. Too much of it.

I pressed my forehead against the tile wall. It was cold. I focused on that. Cold tile. Cold floor.

My legs buckled. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor with my knees pulled up and my forehead on my knees.

I heard my phone buzz in my pocket.

I didn't move.

It buzzed again.

I pulled it out. Two texts from Kyle.

*Ayleen got in an accident*

*I'll be right back*

I stared at the screen.

An accident.

I was on the bathroom floor with blood in my mouth and he was leaving.

I waited.

Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Someone came in, used the sink, left.

I pulled myself up using the toilet paper dispenser. My legs shook. I rinsed my mouth at the sink. There was dried blood on my chin. I wiped it off with a wet paper towel.

My phone buzzed.

*how'd it go?*

Three hours later. Three hours.

I looked at the message. At the lowercase letters. At the lack of punctuation.

I blocked his number.

Then I walked out of the hospital and took the bus home.

I didn't cry.

I just closed a door inside myself. Locked it. Threw away the key.

Some doors don't open twice.