While searching for answers, I stumbled upon contraceptive pills in the trash can, and suddenly, everything made sense.
Taken aback, I was hit by the realization of the truth.
She valued her first love’s child more than the thought of us having one of our own, secretly taking the pills without me knowing.
I was only her husband, which meant nothing but a substitute.
Only if that transpired back then, I knew I would have spent nights in tears, drowning in pain and wondering if all my sacrifices didn't mean anything to her.
But then again, I had cancer. The doctor once revealed I had three months left and didn't have much time to lament.
As the days went by, I went to the hospital for a check-up. The doctor had advised me to call a family member to update them on my condition.
My wife, Celeste, was the only one I had, so I called her, but she didn’t answer despite my repeated attempts.
I kept calling, and on the seventh attempt, she finally answered. Relief washed over me, but it quickly faded upon hearing her cold response.
“What is it? If you have something to say, make it quick,” she snapped, her words sharp and impatient.