As I watched them walk away, everything suddenly clicked. No wonder Clyde never brought Ka home. He was worried about her allergies to dog hair.


    The young nurse looked like she was about to call out to him, but I stopped her.


    "Ms. Crawford, is that your husband? That''s not right," she said, clearly outraged.


    The nurse was young, probably fresh out of college, and filled with a sense of justice.


    I shook my head. "It''s fine. We''re getting a divorce. If he had stayed, I might''ve died sooner."


    Anger could be a woman''s worst enemy. Maybe it was because I''d been bottling everything up for the past three years, but my cancer came back.Exclusive ? content by N(?)ve/l/Drama.Org.


    The drama ended, and the doctors resumed nning the surgery. Perhaps feeling guilty about me, they checked my vitals and, finding them barely eptable, scheduled the surgery.


    Maybe it was my neighbor Brenda''s cross that worked. The doctors had said my chances were slim since it was a recurrence, but the surgery went incredibly smoothly. I guessed God''s blessing meant I got to live a bit longer.


    I was suddenly grateful to Clyde for making me angry. If he had been too nice, I might''ve died sooner.


    In the ICU, the pain was so intense that it was like my scalp was tingling. It wasn''t my first surgery, but it hurt more, maybe because I knew there was no one to feel sorry for me. The first time I had surgery in Aurora, at least my mom was with me.


    Thinking of her made me tear up. If only I had listened more to what she said, maybe she wouldn''t have died so early.


    The monitoring nurse gently wiped away my tears, whispering, "The surgery went well today. The pain from the anesthesia is normal. It''ll pass." Sympathy was evident in her eyes. I could guess why. Today, I must''ve be the talk of the hospital, not because of the cut on my head, but because my husband left with his mistress, ignoring his wife, who was undergoing cancer surgery.


    But I no longer cared. Surviving was all that mattered. In the days following the surgery, no one reached out to me, and I couldn''t be bothered to care. Thedy in the next bed and I shared a caregiver, saving me some money.


    In the quiet of the night, I''d asionally check my phone. Clyde never reached out. No calls, no messages. But I kept seeing updates from him and Ka. Ka loved to share by posting on social media a lot.


    In the gossip group without her, she was the main topic.


    [Mr. Patterson spoils her rotten, huh? Because of an allergy, they''re off to Westbridge for a vacation?]


    [While we''re ving away here, they''re out enjoying spa treatments by the sea!]


    [We''ve got our troubles. Sure, but at least we''re not as bad off as our boss''s wife.]


    [Can you believe Mr. Patterson is openly cheating, and she doesn''t seem to care?]


    Whenever they mentioned Clyde and Ka, it brought me into the conversation. In their eyes, I was the woman with a cheating husband but putting up with everything for the sake of money.


    But they seemed to have forgotten I


    was once a sought-after designer at thepany. And when I first joined, Immediately added this gossip group. They didn''t know who I was then, so they shared everything with me. But it seemed no one remembered I was still there.


    Just as I was about to turn off my phone, a call came from a business partner. I hadn''t managed the project for months and had no idea what they wanted.


    As soon as I answered, theyunched into a tirade. "Ms. Crawford, if the Patterson Group doesn''t want to continue our partnership, that''s fine, but this dy is uneptable."


    "Mr. Patterson won''t answer his phone, and no one at thepany is stepping up. What about our project? Who''s going to cover our losses?" The more they talked, the more agitated they became. Eventually, I understood Clyde had taken Ka to Westbridge and neglected many responsibilities, including the project I used to oversee.


    After letting them vent, I spoke weakly, "I''m sorry. I''ve just had surgery and am not handlingpany matters."


    With years of experience, I realized appearing vulnerable was the best approach. It wasn''t my fault, so why should I take the me?


    The caller seemed stunned, softening their tone, "You had surgery? You''re in the hospital?"


    "Yes. If you can''t reach Mr.


    Patterson, try contacting his


    secretary. Sorry, but I can''t help you."


    I hung up the phone and nced at the photos Ka had shared Quietly, I turned off my phone.


    Clyde was always thoughtful and careful to avoid peanuts due to my allergy even picking them out of


    dishes. And taking Ka to the beach to stop her dog hair allergy seemed just as reasonable.


    The pain surged, and I bit my lip hard, telling myself it was nothing. But the next day, the pain worsened. The doctor said it might be a side effect of the recurrence.


    The doctor suggested, "Ms. Crawford, about the medication, I still rmend using it for six months, given your history of recurrence. You can''t always count on being lucky, right?"


    The doctor''s sincerity was evident, but the treatment might be beyond my means.


    Overwhelmed by pain, I finally called Clyde.


    But Ka picked up the phone. "Hello? Clyde''s in the shower. Can I take a message?"


    Hearing Ka''s voice made the pain in my chest worse.