I'm Dying and He's Cheating

I broke up with my boyfriend during his poorest year.

Later, when he became wealthy and powerful, he forced me to marry him using every means possible.

The whole world said I was the first love he cherished, the treasure he held in his hands.

Until the day he started bringing different women home every night, shattering my heart and turning me into the laughingstock of the city.

I didn’t cry or make a scene. I quietly moved into the study and never disturbed his affairs.

One day, he pinned me against the wall, his eyes bloodshot, and bit my lip as he asked, "Don’t you care at all?"

What he didn’t know was that I was dying.

Every day he tormented me, I counted the time I had left.

It was the third year of my marriage to Ethan Sullivan when he took in a young, beautiful college girl.

Her name was Chloe Evans—fresh-faced, sweet, exactly Ethan’s type.

She stayed by his side for over six months.

Apart from me, she was the woman who lasted the longest with him.

Friends warned me to be careful. They said Ethan might actually have real feelings for her this time.

I first met Chloe on my birthday.

I had been bleeding from my nose since morning. At the hospital, the doctor told me I wouldn’t live past next spring.

I nodded softly and said, "Okay."

Death didn’t scare me. But pain did.

I’d heard about a special medication that could make my passing easier.

My bank account didn’t have enough, so I went to Ethan’s company to ask for money.

Chloe was there too. Fresh out of college, she worked as his secretary.

Ethan was in a meeting, so I waited outside.