Fading Away: A Quiet Goodbye

The setting sun cast a faint blush over my pale face. My hands trembled slightly as I held the diagnosis of my terminal stomach cancer.

Dazedly, I dialed the number pinned at the top of my contacts.

The familiar ringtone snapped me out of my daze, and I instinctively turned my head.

Not far away, my husband, Ivan Sartore, was frowning as he held a woman in his arms protectively. Her face was pale without makeup, but something about her stirred sympathy.

I recognized her. Early in my relationship with Ivan, I had once stumbled across her photo tucked inside his wallet. I had asked him who she was, and he had wordlessly snatched the photo back with barely concealed impatience.

It wasn't until later that I learned the truth from his sister, Iris Sartore. The woman's name was Yuna Lindsay, and she was Ivan's first love.

He had been head over heels for her, but their relationship had fallen apart after his parents disapproved of them. Yuna had gone abroad in a fit of anger, and Ivan had spiraled into a three-year depression before meeting me on a blind date.

Ivan had assured me Yuna was his past, and I had believed him. For the three years we've been married, he had treated me well enough. But today, I realized maybe I never really knew him at all.

The call connected, and Ivan's voice came through, cool and detached. "What is it?"

My voice quavered. "Where are you right now?"

He replied without hesitation, "At the office. I've got a meeting soon. I'll call you back."

Before I could say anything more, the line went dead.

I looked up, watching as Ivan walked past me with his arms still wrapped around Yuna.

If that wasn't love, then how could he fail to notice his wife standing just a few feet away?

…

Back home, I stood in the kitchen while lost in thought. My head felt heavy, and my legs were weak, but I still made a full spread of Ivan's favorite dishes.

It was late when he finally came home.

Seeing that I hadn't turned on the lights and had only lit candles by the dining table, Ivan frowned slightly. "You didn't have to wait for me. You could've eaten first."

I stared at him, then smiled a little. "It's fine. I don't have an appetite when you're not around."

Ivan paused for a moment. "But I've already eaten."

I took his suit jacket as he slipped it off. There was a faint scent of perfume on it.

Ivan never wore perfume. I wondered, had he enjoyed his dinner with Yuna? Did she start crying halfway through, and did that lead to her hugging him, maybe even kissing him?

The thought made my stomach churn.

"I'll join you for a while." Ivan's tone softened.

He wasn't the most patient man, not particularly thoughtful since we got married. But tonight, he seemed unusually gentle.

He reheated the food and ladled a bowl of hot soup, then set it carefully in front of me. He even blew on it to cool it down.

"You really shouldn't wait up for me when I get home this late."

I looked into Ivan's eyes and found they were full of concern.

Suddenly, all the questions I had on the tip of my tongue disappeared.

I smiled and took a sip. "It's delicious."

"Then have some more."

After finishing the bowl of soup, I couldn't hold it back any longer. I rushed to the bathroom and retched violently as if I was trying to purge every last bit of my insides.

Ivan called out worriedly, "Lia, are you okay?"

He hesitated before adding, "You're not pregnant, are you?"

There was no excitement in his voice. If anything, there was a trace of fear.

I wasn't pregnant. But an idea suddenly came to me.

When I exited the bathroom, I announced in feigned elation, "Ivan, actually… I'm pregnant."