ฮองเฮาปลิดชีพตาย หลังฮ่องเต้รับสนมใหม่เข้าวัง

Nyelle

I walked into our house on our fifth wedding anniversary and found my husband proposing to Cassia, my adoptive parents' biological daughter—the woman I had replaced five years ago.

"It's been five years," Vincent said, looking at her with a tenderness I had spent years wishing he would show me. "Five years, and I've only ever had eyes for you. I've waited so long for this moment, so long to tell you how much you mean to me."

My fingers tightened around the cake box in my hands.

Five years.

The same five years I had spent carrying his name, sleeping beside him, and telling myself that perhaps, eventually, he would see me as something more than the woman forced into his life.

"Will you marry me again?"

Cassia smiled at him.

"Yes."

The cake slipped from my hands and hit the floor, cream splattering across the tiles as Vincent rose and pulled her into his arms. Applause broke out around them.

"They look so good together!"

My eyes burned, and suddenly I was back in the doctor's office, sitting across from him while he stared at my test results with an expression that made my fingers go cold around my iPad.

I typed the question I was already afraid to ask.

[Is it serious?]

He looked at me for so long that my heart began pounding before finally lowering his eyes.

"I'm afraid the results aren't good, Mrs. Vincent."

A strange numbness moved through me as I typed again. [What is it?]

"Stage four cancer."

My fingers hovered over the screen. [Can it be treated?]

"It has progressed too far and there is no curative treatment at this stage."

The words refused to make sense.

I waited for him to correct himself, to tell me there had been a mistake or that another test might change the results, but instead he continued explaining treatment, management, and the time I had left.

Less than two years.

That was the only part that remained with me.

When I left the hospital, the first person I thought of was Vincent.

My husband.

He had never given me warmth or affection unless it suited him, but when my entire world had fallen apart, he was still the person I wanted beside me. So I called him again and again.

I sat alone in the hospital hallway while the calls rang unanswered, staring at my phone each time the line finally went dead.

He never picked up.

I didn't know that while I was sitting there trying to understand how I was supposed to live with the knowledge that I was dying, Vincent was at home preparing candles, flowers, rose petals, and a proposal for another woman.

The sound of applause pulled me back.

She was still wrapped in Vincent's arms while people congratulated them, and I stood near the entrance with my ruined anniversary cake at my feet.

Nobody in that room knew I was his wife.

To them, I was probably just his mute secretary, standing quietly in the corner while her boss proposed to the woman he truly loved.

Five years ago, I had stood in my father's office while Vincent argued against marrying me as though I wasn't even there.

"She's mute. Why would I marry her?"

I had heard every word.

My father hadn't even looked at me when he answered.

"It's necessary for the company."

Vincent hadn't wanted me, and my father hadn't cared.

Even on our wedding night, Vincent had made sure I understood exactly what I was to him.

"You'll only be my wife when I need sex," he had said as he loosened his tie. "Apart from that, you're nothing to me."

Five years later, he was still keeping that promise.

As soon as Vincent noticed me standing there, his brows lifted slightly in surprise before he casually walked towards me.

His gaze moved from my face to the ruined cake on the floor before he walked toward me.

"Your sister is back, and you know I never wanted this marriage." He glanced over his shoulder at Cassia. "I'll send the divorce papers soon. Sign them when they arrive. Cassia and I are getting married this week."

Cassia came to stand beside him, slipping her arm through his.

"Aw," she said as her eyes moved over me. "You still can't speak? You never got that surgery to fix your voice?"

She smiled before her hand drifted toward my stomach.

"Anyway, thank you for taking care of my man while I was gone. And thank you for not getting pregnant too."

My fingers curled at my sides.

As if Vincent had ever allowed that to happen.

Every time he touched me, he made sure there was no possibility of me carrying his child. I had stopped counting the number of times he had pulled away at the last moment.

"I can't let you carry my child."

He had said it often enough that I eventually stopped asking why.

I had wanted a baby, though. I had imagined tiny fingers wrapped around mine and little footsteps running through our home, someone who would belong to me and love me without seeing me as a burden because I couldn't speak.

But Vincent had never given me that chance. And now I had less than two years left to live.

Why should I quietly sign the divorce papers and disappear from his life after giving him five years of mine?

My hands trembled as I reached for my iPad, but I straightened my back and began typing.

Vincent watched me impatiently while Cassia glanced toward the screen.

Then I turned it toward him.

[One month.]

His brows drew together as I continued.

[Let me be your wife for one month. Your real wife.]

For five years, I had carried the title without ever having the marriage that came with it. I lifted my eyes to Vincent's as I typed the final words.

[After that, I'll sign the divorce papers.]