He patted my hand. "Be good, Ella. I'll have plenty of time to be with you later, but Zoey's different. She only has one month left. If we don't take care of her now, we won't get another chance." Then, finger by finger, he pried my hand off his and carried Zoey out to find a doctor.
I couldn't help but cry out loud. Zoey was his good friend. She was frightened and fainted, so she needed someone to be with her. Meanwhile, I was just his wife of seven years, who had gone through thick and thin with him. Just someone with late-stage pancreatic cancer who'd had both legs bitten off and somehow clawed her way back from the brink of death. Apparently, I didn't need anyone by my side.
I used to think that if I was obedient, understanding and worked hard enough, someone would eventually love me. Unfortunately, I was wrong. No matter how hard I tried, it was never enough, just like before. Seven years ago, I was blacklisted after refusing to sleep with a director. The pressure drove me to shave my head and plan a wedding with my then-fiancé, who was also a struggling actor.