3

Chelsea

“It’s glioblastoma.”

I stared blankly at the doctor. I wasn’t medically inclined enough to know what he just told me, but I do know that it’s a type of cancer. I just don’t know how bad.

“Is it bad?”

My voice cracked, and my heart skipped a beat when the doctor nodded.

“It’s really bad.”

I listened as he explained what glioblastoma is and what it has done in my head. 

The way he described it to me sounded like a ticking bomb waiting to explode.

I let the news settle in. I thought my constant progressive headaches were due to stress. I thought the nausea and vomiting were because I caught a stomach bug.

I thought the fatigue I felt was because I wasn’t getting enough rest.

I was wrong. Glioblastoma?

“Am I going to die?”

I asked him.

“With the right treatment. You can live up to a year and even five years.”

Wow. So if I get treated, the maximum I will get is five years? Five years? I am so young. Why should I be happy with five years?

“And if I don’t get treated?”

I asked him.

“Three months.”

I laughed bitterly.

“I am only twenty-eight.”

I whispered to myself.

“You are young, which means you have a better chance of getting better if you get treated.”

I laughed.

“Will I be able to live longer than five years?”

I knew the answer even before he spoke. Being young won’t help me live longer than five years.

“You need to start treatment immediately to prevent it from spreading further. You need to be admitted immediately.”

I smiled and shook my head.

“If I get admitted, I will spend the next year or even more in the hospital, right?”

He nodded.

“I don’t want that.”

His eyes widened at my words.

“If you don’t get treated, you will be in a lot of pain and will die within the next three months.”

He told me.

“If I get treated, I will also be in a lot of pain. Just give me painkillers. I am not getting any more treatment.”

I told him. He didn’t look pleased by my decision, but I won’t let him make me change my mind.

In three months or five years, I am going to die anyway.

I don’t want to spend the next five years of my life getting treated at the hospital just to end up dying anyway.

“This is not a decision that you should be making so easily. You should discuss it with your husband and other family members.”

I scoffed.

Husband? Family members? None of those people cares about me.

I have been married to Nathan Montague for a year and three months now, and I could count the number of times we spoke.

We live in the same house, but I barely see him, and when I do see him, he acts like I don’t exist.

At first, it didn’t really bother me, but the longer we stayed together, the harder it became to pretend that it didn’t bother me when he pretended not to notice.

I have been counting down the days until our marriage ends.

Looks like we won’t be getting that divorce after all because I will be dead before the two years come to an end.

“I alone get to make decisions about my life, and I have made up my mind not to get treated.”

I told the doctor and stood up to leave.

“If you change your mind, you can always come back at any time. I do hope you change your mind, but for now, give this to the pharmacists, and they will give you some drugs.”

I nodded and thanked him before walking out of his office. I got the medication he prescribed and saw the pitiful look on the face of the one who gave me the medication.

“Are you okay? How did it go?”

I smiled at Matt, a friend I made at the gym I attend. Since Joan moved to Madrid for studies, Matt has been the one I hang out with, and he offered to come with me.

“Can we leave? I don’t want to be anywhere near this hospital .”

I told him, and he wordlessly nodded. He didn’t ask any questions and just drove me out of the hospital.

We stopped in front of a public pack and I got out. I tried not to think about what the doctor told me, but I couldn’t.

“What did the doctor say?”

Matt asked me again.

“I am going to die.”

I told him with a smile.

“What?”

He let out.

“There is a ticking bomb in my brain, and it will explode at any time. What did he call it again? glioblastoma.”

Even the name sounded scary.

“That’s bad!”

Matt let out.

“I know, the doctor told me as much. If I get treated, I get a year, but if I am lucky, I get five years, but if I don’t get treated, I get three months.”

I told him.

“You should get treated.”

I knew that’s what he would say. I shook my head.

“I don’t want to spend five years in a hospital and on drugs that will end up failing eventually. I chose the shorter time. I am not going to get treated.”

I told him.

“No, please, you need to get treated. Please.”

He pleaded.

“I already made up my mind, Matt. I don’t want to suffer for years if I am going to die anyway. I choose to live the remaining three months of my life for me.”

He looked like he wanted to persuade me more, but thought against it. Instead, he pulled me into a hug.

I didn’t know how much I needed the hug until he hugged me.

I buried my face in his chest and sobbed.

I don’t want to die. I am too young. I haven’t even done anything. I spent the past year looking forward to the end of my two years of marriage to Nathan.

I was counting the days to my freedom. I even have a countdown set.

I had so many things planned out for myself and for my dad. My real dad.

I have saved every penny hoping to move far away with him, but now I can’t even take care of my dad because I am going to die before him.

I thought I had time, but I was wrong.

I cried for the time I thought I had. Matt protected me with his arms and saved me from being the subject of attraction for people in the park.

I cried until I had no tears left in my eyes, and he held me through it all.

“Have you really made up your mind about it?”

He asked when he dropped me off at the house an hour later.

I nodded.

“I am not getting treated, Matt. It might be three months, but I will live my life for me.

It will be the best three months ever.’

I told him.

“What are you going to do?”

He asked me, and I smiled.

“First, file for a divorce.”

I told him.

“What? But I thought you had to pay five billion.”

I nodded.

“I have the money, Matt. I thought I would use it to establish myself somewhere far from here, but I am going to die, might as well use it to get my freedom.”

I told him. I have saved every penny that I got in the past year. I already had money saved even before that.

I have enough to buy my freedom from the silent, cold-hearted monster I married and enough to live for three months.

The remaining part will be used to pay an advance for my dad’s stay at the home.

“I can help if you want.”

I shook my head.

“I can handle this. I can handle myself. Thank you for worrying about me.”

I told him and hugged him again before saying goodbye to him.

I sat in my room alone and, rather than cry, I spent the next two hours writing down what I wanted to do before I die.

I never thought I would have such a limited time, but now that it’s my reality, I have realized just how little I have done.

I was able to make a bucket list with over fifty things that I needed to do before my three months are up.

After making sure, I looked for a divorce lawyer, and it was pretty easy to find one.

It took less than four days to get the papers, and I signed before sending them through my lawyer to Nathan’s office.

I could have easily given it to him at home, but he hasn’t been home in days.

He only sent me a text like he always does to tell me he wasn’t coming home.

I don’t know what he is up to when he isn’t home, and I never ask, even though I always wanted to know.

He doesn’t treat me as his wife, and no one knows that we are married since our wedding was private.

Everyone thinks he married my step-sister, who has been away for over a year now.

She hasn’t once contacted me, but I heard from my mother that she recently called her mom.

I try to avoid my mom as much as I can because whenever we meet, she always asks me when I am going to get pregnant as if I am supposed to impregnate myself.

No, I didn’t tell her that Nathan and I weren’t intimate; it would only make her lecture me even more.

Once he signs the divorce papers, I will move out of this hellhole that has been my home for over a year.

I will walk away from everything and live my life for me.

Three months might be short, but I will make the most of it and die a happy girl.