Love and hate intertwined

Love and hate intertwined

Yi Yanni

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I had loved Silas for ten years. But on the very day I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, his first love returned home. I loved him. Whether he loved me in return, I didn't know-I couldn't feel it. But I was certain he would never cheat. In the final days of my life, I flawlessly played the role of the perfect wife. After I died, he found my diary. And when he finished reading it, he broke down and wept with a gut-wrenching, soul-crushing agony.

Love and hate intertwined Chapter 1

I had loved Silas for ten years.

But on the very day I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, his first love returned home.

I loved him. Whether he loved me in return, I didn't know-I couldn't feel it. But I was certain he would never cheat.

In the final days of my life, I flawlessly played the role of the perfect wife.

After I died, he found my diary. And when he finished reading it, he broke down and wept with a gut-wrenching, soul-crushing agony.

Chapter 1

The diagnosis was printed on a crisp, pristine sheet of white paper. Cancer. Stage four.

My fingers, trembling and numb, hovered over the phone screen. I opened my contacts, tapped his name, and then backed out. I repeated this three times.

Silas. My husband.

Before I could even press the dial button, his name flashed across the screen. He was calling me.

My heart gave an involuntary, violent lurch. I swiped to answer and pressed the phone to my ear.

"Nina," his voice drifted through the receiver, his tone softening as he said my name. "I have some things to take care of tonight. I won't make it for dinner, and I might be back late. Don't wait up for me; go to bed early."

The words I had been practicing-Silas, I'm sick, the doctor says I'm dying-caught in my throat.

"...Okay," I murmured.

The call was as brief and compliant as always. The line disconnected, leaving only the hollow tone of a dropped call, but I remained frozen on the sidewalk, the phone still pressed to my cheek.

Silas, I'm sick, I'm dying.

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My Wife, My Best Friend, Their Deceit

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5.0

My best friend Kevin invited me to his dad' s 60th birthday, a big celebration because his dad had terminal cancer. My wife, Olivia, couldn't make it; she was on a two-week work trip in Europe, a crucial conference for her career. But when I arrived at the party, I saw Olivia, kneeling before Mr. and Mrs. Miller, performing a "daughter-in-law tea" ceremony, dressed in a way I' d never seen. Then I heard Kevin' s relative say, "Kevin is so lucky. His fiancée is just wonderful." Fiancée. The word crushed me. Olivia' s practiced smile froze when she saw me. She pulled me aside, whispering, "Ethan, what are you doing here? It's not what you think." Kevin then appeared, claiming it was a "little white lie" for his dying father, wanting to see him settled. Olivia eagerly agreed, pleading with me to keep quiet, "just for today." They stood there, my wife and my best friend, united in their deceit, asking me to participate in my own humiliation. A cold clarity washed over me. "For your dad's dying wish? Does his dying wish also include a grandchild to complete the 'four-generation' picture? Are you pregnant, too?" The air turned to ice. Olivia recoiled, then feigned outrage, calling me "cruel." Her gaslighting was instant. Later that night, I went home to retrieve belongings and found them passionately kissing on my couch. "It's... it's not what it looks like!" she gasped, but I pulled out my phone, recording, "Save it for the judge. I want a divorce. And I'm keeping the dog."

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