La amante de mi prometido me llamó perra

"Ms. Eulalia Clearwater, where’s your family? You came alone?”

Eulalia Clearwater was baffled. She was just picking up some medical reports. Why would she need an entourage?

And speaking of family… did she even have one?

Her mom died giving birth to her, her dad saw her as a cash cow, and her brother blamed her for their mom’s death and couldn’t stand her. As for her lover… she practically fight tooth and nail for him. She almost forgot what the word “family” meant until the doc brought it up.

Eulalia snapped out of her daze and shook her head. “Just me, myself, and I.”

The doctor’s brows furrowed. He adjusted his glasses, let out a heavy sigh, and handed her a stack of lab reports with a look of pity and resignation.

"Ms. Clearwater, I’ve got bad news. You’ve got stomach cancer, and it’s pretty far along.”

He seemed to feel sorry for her, a young woman dealt such a rotten hand. He was extra gentle, like he was walking on eggshells.

Eulalia felt like the wind was knocked out of her. She grabbed the reports and scanned the numbers. She wasn’t a doc, but even she could tell her stomach was in bad shape.

She had a hunch something was up during the endoscopy, but she didn’t want to think about it.

The doctor pointed at the images, explaining everything in detail. Eulalia was half-listening, half-zoned out. The gist was, she didn’t have much time and needed to start chemo ASAP.

How long can you last with late-stage stomach cancer? She knew better than anyone – her grandpa fought it for two years before he kicked the bucket.

The doctor tried to be helpful. ”Ms. Clearwater, I really think you should get admitted for treatment as soon as possible.”

“Will that...make me better?” Eulalia’s voice was barely above a whisper, her face numb.

The doctor didn’t say anything, just gave a sad shake of his head.

Screw it then, she thought. She licked her dry lips, stood up, and stuffed the diagnosis into her bag.

She muttered a “thanks” and bolted out of the room.

Outside the hospital, it was raining cats and dogs. The rain was like ice daggers on her face. She fumbled for her umbrella, but the rain was coming down sideways. The umbrella was about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

It was March, not exactly freezing, but Eulalia felt cold to her bones. The chill seeped into her marrow and spread through her body.

Her fingers were red and numb. She held the umbrella with one hand and shoved the other in her pocket, but she couldn’t get warm.

Eulalia wandered aimlessly. She twisted the ring on her finger and looked up at the overcast sky. The weather in Windwatch City was as fickle as a pickle. Spring was supposed to be full of life, but here she was, staring down the barrel.

She flagged down a cab. When it pulled over, she slowly closed her umbrella and climbed in.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Sapphire Bay,” she mumbled.

After a while, she couldn’t help but pull out the diagnosis and look at the images again.

The picture of her stomach was twisted and ugly. It was hard to believe that thing was inside her.

Her stomach cancer was from hunger. She’d been married to Percival Dunraven for four years, and she’d bent over backward trying to please him, cooking his favorite dishes, hoping he’d come home to a feast and maybe, just maybe, soften up a bit.

But Percival couldn’t care less about sharing a meal with her. She didn’t let it get her down, though. She kept cooking and texting him, hoping he’d show up. But all she got for her trouble was stomach cancer.

Tears started rolling down her face. Eulalia took a deep breath. She thought she was tough as nails, that she’d seen it all.

But today, all her strength crumbled like a house of cards. Her stomach was in knots, and she was shaking like a leaf, biting back a moan.

The driver heard her crying and glanced in the rearview mirror. He’d never seen someone so utterly broken.

“Miss, what’s eating you? Heartbreak? Job troubles?” he ventured.

No answer.

He continued, “Look, life’s got its ups and downs. You gotta roll with the punches. Crying won’t fix anything. Get some rest, and tomorrow’s a brand new day.”

Eulalia looked up, her smile bitter. “Thanks,” she said. It was ironic that the first person to comfort her after her diagnosis was a total stranger.

The driver just smiled and focused on the road. When they reached Sapphire Bay, he pulled over.

Eulalia paid through her phone and got out. She tore up the diagnosis and chucked it in a trash can.

A cold wind blew. She wiped her tears and put on her usual cool and collected face. But her eyes were red and puffy, and her face was pale as a ghost.

She was Eulalia Clearwater, the unshakeable, but today, she was shaken to her core.

Eulalia was dead on her feet as she trudged up the stairs. Fumbling for her keys, she turned the lock and as the door creaked open, her foggy brain suddenly snapped to attention. Something was off.

She could hear someone on the phone through the door.

Percival Dunraven was back.

Should she tell him she’s been diagnosed with stomach cancer? Would he give a damn?

As Eulalia was wrestling with these thoughts, she found herself already inside the apartment. And there he was, Percival, looking like thunder, glaring at her.

“Where the hell have you been? Look at how many times I called you!” he barked.

Out gallivanting? Well, if getting blood tests and a stomach exam at the hospital counts as gallivanting, then sure. After all, she was practically knocking on death’s door.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Percival didn’t even notice, too busy giving her the stink eye for not picking up his calls.

Eulalia pulled out her dead phone from her bag and waved it. “Battery’s dead,” she said.

She had two phones - one for work, and the other just in case Percival called. But her stomach had been giving her hell, and she’d forgotten to charge it.

“What’s the emergency?” she asked, already knowing who had him so wound up.

Before she could finish her thought, Percival grabbed her hand and started dragging her out. ”Evadne’s hurt. She’s lost a lot of blood. You’re coming with me to the hospital.”

Just as she thought. His panic was all for Evadne Wilder.

Her heart ached.

Evadne had a severe blood clotting disorder and a rare blood type. And guess who was a match? Eulalia Clearwater.

She was soaked to the bone from the rain, her hair clinging to her back like seaweed. Her lips were blue, her hands icy cold. Percival didn’t notice any of it. He was in such a rush that he practically threw her into the backseat of his car.

As he drove, his gaze flicked to the rearview mirror and he caught sight of Eulalia’s pale face.

“Why the hell do you look like a ghost?” he grumbled.

...So he finally noticed.

Eulalia gave a bitter smile. Her throat felt like it was clogged with bile. She rolled down the window, watching the rain pour outside. She was freezing, her breath misting in the cold air, her eyelashes quivering.

Percival shot her a cold glance. Seeing her silent, he grew restless.

Something was off about Eulalia today.

But then he thought, why should he care? Evadne was his priority. He floored the gas pedal.

At the hospital, Percival dragged Eulalia out of the car. She could barely keep her footing as he yanked her along.

He pulled her into the blood draw room and coldly ordered a nurse, “Take her blood. No need to check, just hurry.”

Eulalia’s lips curled in bitterness. He trusted her blood more than he trusted her. Wasn’t he worried her cancer cells might get into Evadne?

She hesitated, then spoke up, “Percival, I’m not feeling well. Can we not do this today?”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. He grabbed her chin and hissed, “What right do you have to refuse? We signed a contract four years ago. It’s all there in black and white. Do your damn job, Eulalia.”

Yeah, that contract. Four years ago, she agreed to donate blood to Evadne in case of an emergency. It was all spelled out.

This was the deal she signed up for. Even if she was knocking on death’s door, she had to give blood for Evadne.

It was her debt to Percival.

That year, Evadne was in a car accident. She was losing blood fast and needed a rare blood type – RH negative.

When Percival begged her for help, Eulalia, in a moment of madness, made a deal: “Marry me, and I’ll save Evadne.”

She could still remember the shock in his eyes, followed by disgust.

That was the moment everything changed. She had kicked him when he was down, forced his hand.

Percival was born into the prestigious Dunraven family, used to being treated like royalty. He had never been forced into anything. But he signed the contract without hesitation, and Eulalia knew she had lost.

Seeing him go to such lengths for Evadne tore her apart. But she consoled herself, thinking maybe over time, he’d grow to care for her too.

But karma’s a bitch. Eulalia never thought it would bite her this hard, this fast.

Now she had a terminal illness. Served her right!

As the needle pierced her skin and her blood was drawn, the pain was unbearable, even worse than the stomach exam. She turned even paler.

The nurse, who had never seen such a frail woman, looked at her pale wrist and whispered, “Can you handle this?”

Dizzy, Eulalia shook her head and croaked, “Just do it. I’ll be fine.”

After drawing 600cc of blood, the nurse didn’t dare to take more. Eulalia’s hand was ice cold, not the temperature of a living person.

As she slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing she heard was Percival asking the nurse, “Is that enough? If not, keep drawing.”

How had he become so heartless over the years?