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A Decade Undone by Deceit

Chapter 5 

Word Count: 761    |    Released on: 13/08/2025

age didn' t get tumors. They didn' t face down

in my ears. "It' s just a possibil

r. Surgery. I could die

you contact your family,

rtache, trying to protect her. And a father who saw me a

end?" the doctor asked.

er assistant. She had a new man to dote on her now. I wasn' t necessary anymore. M

was scheduled immediately. I took two weeks of medical leav

ospital lobby. She was with Kendal, but she wasn' t there for

er voice dripping with approval. "His family ow

nd," Kendal said, thou

fed. "He' s a nobody, Kendal. He' ll drag you down.

get married, that she would only ever

I was in a small, pre-op room,

e complained, not even asking how I was. "The ne

arted to tell her, to ex

pped. "It' s my birthday in two weeks. You know

arties I had planned for her, the thoughtf

ere?" I asked, a f

oice softening, confident she had me wrapp

s done. Done with the games, the lies, th

flat. "I' ll make you a

last supper. A

le dinner but eventually agreed, praisi

The recovery was painful, but I was alive. The doctor

the ingredients for her favorite meal: a rich, slow-cooked seafood chowder. I had learned to cook for her, because she had once promi

house and started cooki

ross the living room. The chowder gr

t to call, the fro

ack of Jaime Hodge. He was carrying her piggyba

ck t-shirts. His said, "I' m with

in her throat. She scrambled off his ba

lose. The sight of them together, so intimate and

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A Decade Undone by Deceit
A Decade Undone by Deceit
“I collapsed from exhaustion after dedicating ten years of my life to my CEO girlfriend, Kendal. I gave up my music, my dreams, everything to build her empire. At the hospital, the doctor delivered the news. Malignant tumor. I needed emergency surgery to save my life. Kendal never visited. Not once. I later found out she was on the phone with another man, sweetly telling him she missed him while I was lying in a hospital bed. Two weeks after they cut the cancer out of me, on her birthday, I went home and cooked her favorite meal. It was supposed to be our last supper, a final goodbye. She stumbled in late that night, drunk, carried piggyback by that same man. They were wearing matching black t-shirts. His said, "I'm with her." Hers said, "I'm with him." She saw me and froze, her laughter dying in her throat. She scrambled off his back, her face a mask of panic and guilt. But I felt nothing. Not anger, not jealousy. The part of me that could feel pain for her had been carved out on the operating table, right along with the tumor. I looked her straight in the eye. "It's over." Then I walked out of the penthouse we once called home, leaving her standing alone in the monument to our failed relationship. This time, I wasn't coming back.”