Thank you for being here once, even if you were just a passerby, I can't let go. You can no longer hear anything I say; scenes from our memories keep flashing before my eyes. I have no regrets about having loved, cried, and felt pain; it was all worth it. Thank you for being here once, even if you were just a passerby...our story began just like this.
Chapter 1
The sound of water splashing came from the bathroom. Through the door, the silhouette of the man inside could be vaguely seen. That was my husband, Jack Clarke. I sat in the living room, tidying up my clothes.
Every time he came home from work, he would take a shower first. Perhaps it was a doctor's habit to be overly concerned with hygiene. Even after more than two years of marriage, he hadn't changed this habit.
The phone on the coffee table rang with a "ding ding ding," and a message appeared on the screen. I couldn't help but glance at it.
"I'll meet you at the usual place tomorrow."
Looking at the message, I felt a pang of guilt, but I was also puzzled. Who could it be? I couldn't shake the feeling it was from a woman.
Just then, the sound of water stopped abruptly. I quickly put the phone back as if nothing had happened, trying to calm my unease.
He walked out, already dressed neatly.
He said in a flat tone, "I'm leaving."
We had an unspoken rule not to stay over, even though we were married, we both adhered to the rules.
"Could you... not leave tonight?" My voice trembled, my anxiety evident.
For the past two years, my love felt like walking on thin ice, afraid of the slightest disturbance.
"Is there something you need?" he asked, expressionless.
"I have..." Just then, his phone rang, interrupting what I wanted to say. He answered the call and left as he spoke.
That night felt especially long.
The next day, I went to work with dark circles under my eyes. As a hospital front desk clerk, my job was to greet patients and guide them on where to go and what procedures to follow.
My phone rang, it was Josh Blake, the thoracic surgeon.
"Come to the office quickly, your medical exam results are out."
My heart raced as I hurried to the office.
Josh handed me a thick stack of medical reports.
"I told you to get your check-ups on time every year, but you didn't listen. Now it's stage four breast cancer, it's advanced..."
Holding the report, my face turned pale, and I stood there speechless, dumbfounded.
"While the cancer cells haven't spread, you should have a mastectomy as soon as possible. There's a better chance that way."
"Surgery... will it completely cure me?"
"We're doctors, who can guarantee anything one hundred percent?"
"Then I won't do it. I don't want to be incomplete."
I walked to the hospital garden and sat down, looking up at a window on the right. It was Jack's office. I wanted to go to him, but I couldn't.
My phone rang; it was him calling. I felt a flicker of happiness.
"What's up?" I tried to speak in a calm tone.
"Let's get a divorce."
A buzzing sound filled my ears, and I couldn't hear anything else.
"What did you say...?" I couldn't believe my ears and wanted to confirm.
he didn't repeat what he had just said, "I will pack up my things from home and take them when I have time."
"Why? You owe me an explanation," my voice trembled.
"I just don't think we're right for each other anymore. I don't feel anything." He hung up impatiently.
Just those few words, "we're not right for each other," dismissed the years of our relationship. Looking at the report in my hand, I chuckled softly. When it rained, it poured, didn't it?
I muddled through the afternoon at work, unable to focus. To prevent any mistakes, I took leave from the hospital and went home. I needed to calm down as this wasn't a small matter.
Back home, I collapsed onto the sofa, looking at his belongings around the room, reminiscing about our past. He was a highly regarded neurosurgeon, while I was just a humble hospital front desk staff. In this relationship, I always put myself second, but I never complained.
After much thought, I decided to call him. After all those years, why should he be the one to decide on divorce?