THE WIFE HE NEVER HAD, NOW HE REGRETS IT

Scarlett

“You're not your husband's legal wife, Mrs. Scarlett,” the doctor informs me. “So we cannot authorize the use of Mr. Ethan’s medical insurance for your treatment.”

My heart plummeted. What? 

“Doctor, there seems to be a mis–” I broke off, coughing into the blood-stained handkerchief clutched in my hands. My chest burned as I forced the words out. “That's not possible. Please... check again. I'm Ethan's wife.”

With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone and showed him a photo from our wedding. Ethan and I smiling beneath a bouquet of white roses.

“We've been married for three years,” I croaked, explaining further. “Today is also our wedding anniversary. Look–”

“I'm sorry,” the doctor repeated, glancing briefly at the photo before returning his gaze to me. “But we cannot proceed under that insurance. The records are absolute.”

I chuckled in disbelief. It felt like a sick joke. How could the man who held me this morning now be someone who wasn't even my husband?

Only a few hours ago, the world had been perfect. I had woken up early to prepare Ethan’s favorite breakfast. As we sat at the dining table, he had reached across and handed me a small, velvet box.

“Happy anniversary, Scarlett,” he had whispered, his eyes melting with a warmth I’d trusted for three years. “I love you, and I always will.”

Opening up the box, a short gasp escaped my throat as I stared down at the ruby necklace in its box. I'd always wanted this particular necklace.

“You remembered?” I whispered, my eyes stinging with tears.

“Of course. That's what husbands do,” he’d replied, leaning in to kiss my forehead. “I promised to make you happy every single day when we said our vows, didn't I?”

Warmth spread through my chest. “Thank you, Ethan. I also got something for y– oh, Durian, you're up.”

Durian, our 8-year-old adopted son, joined us at the dining table. His face clouded with his usual silent resentment.  

Ethan and I had adopted him three years ago, shortly into our marriage, after we found out I couldn't conceive.

He thought adopting Durian would fill a void in me, and honestly, I did too. But Durian hadn't been able to accept me as his mother just yet.

Durian hadn't replied to my greetings. Rather, he'd stared down at the food with a frown on his face.

“Durian, is something wrong?” I asked.

Pouting, he admits, “I don't wanna eat macaroni this morning.”

I chuckled nervously, looking at Ethan for a little help.

Clearing his throat, Ethan came to the rescue. “You see, today is a really important day for Mommy and Daddy, so Mommy made Daddy's favorite me–”

“I don't wanna eat macaroni,” he repeated a little more loudly this time with his arms tightly crossed. “If Mommy won't make something else for me, then...then I just won't eat!”

“Durian, wait,” My voice had been firm, stopping him mid-step before he could storm out of the dining room. “It's not proper manners to storm out of the dining room. If you want to eat something different, you say it properly and politely.”

He'd hesitated, then mumbled, “...I wanna eat porridge rice.”

“Good. I'll have it ready shortly.” Turning to Ethan, I added, “Continue with your meal, I'll be back shortly.”

I retreated to the kitchen, my heart heavy.

“Hey,” Ethan's voice came from behind me, but I didn't turn around.

If I did, he would have seen my emotions all over my face. It'd been three years. Three years since I've been raising Durian, yet he'd never once treated me as his mother.

Rather than filling the void in my heart from not being able to have a child of my own, he made me resent myself for not even being able to be a good mother to him.

“Look at me, Scarlett.”

I'd hesitated. “I have to get Durian's meal ready on time, Ethan. He–”

He gently turns me around anyway, pulling me into his arms.

“Durian is just 8 years old,” he mumbled. “Don't take his actions to heart. It's normal for kids his age to act immature, but I'm sure with time, he'll come around.”

Stroking my back soothingly, Ethan continued. “Someday, he'll see how much you love him. You even quit your job just to take care of him. He may not understand now, but soon...”

Ethan's words of comfort had made me feel a tad bit better.

Refraining from his hug, I'd said, “Thank you for comforting me. I feel much better than bef–”

A sharp pain tore through my abdomen. I gasped, knees buckling as the familiar pain resurfaced. Only this time, it was much stronger.

Losing my footing, I'd fallen to the ground, but Ethan had caught me before I could hit the floor.

“Scarlett! Are you okay?” He asked with a worried expression all over his face.

“I...I feel dizzy, but it's fine. This has happened before.”

His expression darkened instantly. “It has? But you never told me.”

“Yes, I did,” I whispered. “A month ago over breakfast. You said it was probably stress and left for your golf game.”

A flicker of something passed behind his eyes. “I didn't realize it was that serious. You should go to the hospital and get checked out.”

I couldn't refuse him when he spoke like that.

“Will you come with me?”

Ethan hesitated. It was just for a second, but I noticed.

Rubbing my shoulders, he'd said, “I would, but I have an important client meeting today.”

Of course. What had I been thinking about asking him to leave work to come with me to the hospital?

“Work is important. You should go to work. I can go to the hospital by myself.”

“Thank you for understanding. I’ll be home early tonight. I promise.”

That was the promise I had been clinging to until the doctor’s words shattered it.

“Mrs. Scarlett,” The doctor's voice pulled me back to reality. “You need to make a decision immediately. Your condition is critical. The poison in your system is already affecting your vital organs.”

Poison?

“...From our assessment, you only have three months left.”

My mind raced. Poison? Who would do this? Why? But one question burned brighter than the fear of death itself.

Tightening my jaw, I asked, “If I'm not registered as Ethan's wife in our couple's medical insurance card... then who is?”

Without a word, the doctor turned the monitor toward me. My breath hitched, my heart stuttering in my chest.

There, in cold, digital letters, was the name that turned my entire marriage into a lie: 

Aurelia Storm. Legal Spouse.