The eighteen-year-old Alexander, who lived on scraps and treated me like a treasure, was gone. The man standing before me now wore an expensive suit, his heart seemingly changed along with his wardrobe.
I barely recognized him anymore—and I was afraid to love him.
“Alexander, she hurt me so bad! Am I going to die? I’m so scared!” Chelsea whimpered, snuggling against him, acting fragile.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take you to the hospital right now!” He scooped her up without a second thought and rushed out.
Watching him rush to Chelsea’s side, I felt a wave of bitterness wash over me.
She had only minor injuries, yet he acted like she was on the brink of death. Meanwhile, I was dying of pancreatic cancer, and he treated me like I was being unreasonable.
It was laughable.
The man who had promised to love me until the end was now pouring his affection into someone else, leaving me with nothing.
So I decided I didn’t want him anymore.
I started to laugh—a harsh, bitter laugh.
But it didn’t bring me joy; as I laughed, blood trickled from my lips.
I didn’t want to dirty Buddy’s body, so I wiped my mouth and took him outside to the back of the yard.