Mercy for Everyone but Me

On the fourth birthday I spent by Sean Thompson's side, I received two envelopes. The first contained his wedding invitation and the second, a letter detailing my cancer diagnosis.

I sat on the floor in silence for a long time, the two sheets of paper lying on either side of me. In my eyes, they resembled two diverging paths, though they both led to certain death eventually.

My phone rang, sending a sharp pang through my nerves. I lay down as I answered the call. A gentle female voice came through the line.

"Ms. Cassandra Price? Hi, I'm calling from Lunastrel Private Hospital…"

I had always loved the feeling of walking barefoot across the floor. It was late autumn and the heating wasn't on, so the cold seeped directly into the soles of my feet. It took me a long while before I hung up on the woman who was cautiously urging me to consider chemotherapy over the phone.

As soon as I did, however, Sean's name appeared on my screen.

Sean rarely called me himself. Whenever he needed me, his assistant would simply inform me of the time and place to meet Sean, and that was it. Seeing his name now made me freeze for a moment.

The call ended after barely 20 seconds. I supposed that was the extent of his patience. Within two minutes, his assistant would certainly call me and coldly tell me everything I'd done wrong, and I'd be expected to dress up and appear before Sean afterward.

After all the time I'd spent by his side, no one knew Sean's rotten temperament better than I did.

I sat up, grabbed the phone that was still ringing, and flung it forward. The shrill ringing finally stopped, though I'd smashed a hole through the TV.

I took a deep breath, forcing the emotions in my chest back down. I pushed the mess on the floor under the coffee table and went upstairs to take a shower.

When you truly knew you were going to die, once the initial wave of emotions passed, it was hardly as devastating as one might think. All those years I'd spent by Sean's side, I rarely pondered about my own future. I'd always felt that sooner or later, one of us was bound to die.

After my shower, I groomed myself meticulously from head to toe, masking my sickly pallor. Slipping into the black evening gown Sean had given me, I stared at the alluring woman in the mirror. I dabbed some vivid red lipstick on my lips, smiled, and bade myself farewell.

A car was already waiting outside by the time I stepped out of the house. I pulled open the car door and saw Paul Winfrey, the vice president of Sean's company, seated inside.

Paul had always looked down on women like me. Whenever we met, he would greet me sarcastically. I never backed down though, and my sharp retorts left him fuming every single time. I couldn't imagine how Sean had managed to get Paul to pick me up this time.

"You really know how to make an entrance, Ms. Price. I wonder if Sean's ever waited two hours for you downstairs," Paul remarked.

I shot him a dismissive glance. I was sick of his condescending attitude and couldn't be bothered to respond. Instead, I closed my eyes as soon as I got into the car.

Paul fell silent for a few seconds. He was likely surprised by how I'd let his taunts go unanswered.

For the next 30 minutes, I drifted in and out of consciousness as he chattered incessantly. By the time we reached our destination, I still hadn't fully woken up. My legs gave way as I stepped out, and I stumbled, only to be caught as an arm snaked around my waist.

I attempted to struggle, but the arm refused to budge. Instead, it pulled me closer.

Sean had never known when to hold back. His grip on my waist was beginning to hurt. I felt rather helpless.

"Let go of me, Sean," I said.

He froze upon hearing my words before finally releasing his grasp. He patted my head a few times.

"You didn't answer your phone. Are you in another one of your moods again?"