Goodbye Husband, Your Weak Wife Is Gone: Reborn

Ava:

“The tumor has eaten too deep into your liver. You’ll be lucky if you survive one week at most. At this point, I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.”

The words of the doctor floated over me like they were meant for someone else, a stranger. Someone else’s liver had failed. A stranger had less than one week to live, not me.

When I said nothing, he continued. From how composed he was, I could tell delivering bad news to patients wasn’t new to him.

“We’re still running tests to find out what exactly could have caused this but frankly, if you’d come here just a few months ago, a minor surgery to remove the tumor would have sufficed. This could have been easily avoided…”

His voice blended into the background of my thoughts, next to the sound of beeping hospital monitors attached to me, a constant reminder of where I was. My fingers trembled as I slowly merged with the ‘stranger’. That was when it hit me.

My liver had failed. I had less than a week to live.

Just two days ago, this news would have sent me spiraling, but now, it felt like yet another heartbreaking news of many.

“Is there anyone you’d like to call to be here with you right now?”

“Scott. My husband,” I replied automatically, cringing when I realized how eager that’d sounded.

I glared at the wall as the doctor dialed the number I’d given him, and pinched the back of my fingers quietly to distract myself from the creeping pain in my abdomen while he introduced himself to my husband.

“So what do you want from me?” I heard the previously cheery voice of my husband turn cold, as if the fact that this call had to do with me irritated him.

A single tear ran down my cheek, which surprised me because I didn’t think I still had any left to shed.

Surely, when he heard how serious my condition was, he’d forget our clash and rush down here to be with me. I’d seen a different side of him recently, but he couldn’t possibly want me dead, could he?

I scratched the exposed part of my thigh as the doctor told him how serious my condition was. The sting from my nail was painful at first, but for a moment, it seemed to numb the pain in my abdomen and I was momentarily distracted from the call. So I continued to do it.

“If she’s gonna die within the week, what difference would my presence there make?” Scott asked. Unfeeling, unperturbed. Almost like he’d been expecting the news, but didn’t want to be bothered by it.

My eyes watered. I scratched harder.

“Your wife is dying,” the previously composed doctor repeated, now appalled.

I heard Scott sigh from the other end of the line. He was tired of this. Of me. We were wasting his precious time.

There was a mumble in the background, then Scott’s voice explaining something inaudibly and then a giggle. It was a woman. I knew it was her.

Of course he was with her now, just like he had always been, while I worked like a slave and he gave her credit.

My exposed skin was sore now. I felt liquid on my finger where I’d scratched myself, but didn’t stop because it was all I could do to quell the pain that had spread to my chest.

“But frankly, what am I supposed to do about her dying? You’re the doctor. What exactly do you need me for?” He slurred, while Belle chuckled even louder, as though she wanted to make sure her voice was heard.

“I wonder what I’ll wear to the funeral,” she said before laughing again.

I could see her now, smirking at me while my husband rammed into her breathlessly, her moans increasing when she saw I was watching. Remembering only made my chest hurt worse but I couldn’t stop.

“She’s your wife…” the doctor said, sneaking a glance at me. I could swear I heard his voice break. Maybe he was good at delivering bad news, but this response was a first for him.

“She’s not my wife. She figured it out, didn’t she? We’re not married under any law,” Scott continued, his voice pissed. “She couldn’t complete the only job she had. Why would I put myself through that awful hospital smell for someone who’s no longer of use to me?”

I heard the dial tone, but couldn’t tell if Scott or the doctor had ended the call. Nor did I care. There was something rising in me and it threatened to spill out if I didn’t curtail it. I scratched my thigh skin even harder, but the blinding pain still couldn’t stop the memory from two days ago, when everything had crashed and I realized just how deep in the lie I’d been living.

They’d always patronized me, always encouraged me to keep working, to reach the big break. I’d been a fool, but now I was dying, there was no need for them to pretend anymore.

“I’m sorry…” the doctor started to say, before he noticed my thigh that was probably bleeding.

The nurses showed up, but I wasn’t sure if he’d called them or if that had been my imagination. One of the nurses said something about the adulterated herbs I’d been taking, while another tried to keep me from hurting myself further, but by now, I couldn’t tell what was real from what wasn’t anymore.

What was the point? They had won. I was too far gone. Even if they helped me today, I’d still be dead within the week. My entire body shook violently as they tried to steady me.

The bile inside me was about to come out. I wanted to scream but no words came out.

I hated them all. My husband and Belle for planning it all from the start, locking me away from the rest of the world, milking me like a cow and bringing me to this state. But most of all, I hated myself for letting it happen. I was going to die while they got everything they wanted; everything I’d worked for while they enjoyed themselves and slowly killed me.

If there was any justice in this world…

“I don’t want to die!” I cried out to no one in particular. “They deserve to suffer…”

Those were the last words I managed to mutter before my lips failed me and soon, my body followed suit. My memory began to falter, making me wonder what I’d been so angry about in the first place.

The panicked faces of the doctor and nurses soon vanished, and gave way to a calm and peaceful light of nothingness. I welcomed d*ath as I shut my eyes for the last time.

I thought this was the end. After doing nothing but work for half my life, I would finally rest.

It wasn’t.

Suddenly I was in a garden that looked familiar. I was chasing something, but didn’t know what. It was a girl, not older than ten who chuckled when I caught up with her.

“Who are you?” I asked, wondering what I was doing here and why everything felt familiar, even the girl.

“You know, silly,” she said childishly before she took off running again.

I knew her. She was me.

But that didn’t make any sense. I had no other choice but to follow. I caught up with her easily this time.

“What’s going on?” I asked, trying but failing to remember anything that had happened before now. “Am I dreaming?”

The little girl shook her head. Her sweet smile was gone now. She looked so sad.

“They hurt us,” she said, tears pulling in her eyes. “Look at what they did.”

Around me, the once beautiful garden now looked like it’d been hit by several storms. The weather was bad, everything was bare. My heart pounded.

“You’re looking the wrong way,” she said before pointing. “Look.”

I followed the direction of her little index finger which was now on me. I almost threw up in my mouth.

My chest was open and my heart looked rotten, torn in half. I didn’t want to look farther down. All at once I remembered everything and the pain hit me once again, I wrapped my arms around my head and my eyes watered.

“Make it stop!” I cried.

“Only you can,” the little girl, me, said. She cocked her head to the side as an expression I couldn’t define replaced her sad features. She stretched an open palm toward me and asked,

“Do you believe in second chances?”