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LISA
The crimson stain on my palm, a stark reminder of the relentless march of my illness, mirrored the bleeding in my heart. "Doctor, Manoban, you only have six months to live," the words echoed in my mind, a cruel, final sentence.
Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia, a silent thief, had stolen my health, my future, and now, my peace of mind. The cancer, once a whisper in my blood, had become a roar, spreading its tendrils throughout my body, claiming my liver, spleen, lymph nodes, and now, my heart. I was a ticking time bomb, counting down the seconds until the inevitable.
But the pain in my heart wasn't just physical. It was a searing, agonizing ache, born of betrayal, of shattered trust. Jennie, my wife, the woman I had loved with every fiber of my being, had been unfaithful, not just with anyone, but with my own cousin, Taehyung.
"I felt abandoned loving you," her words echoed in my ears, a hollow justification for her actions. Had I been a bad wife? Had I failed to provide her with the love and support she needed? The guilt gnawed at me, a bitter pill I had to swallow.
But did I deserve to be cheated on? Was my love, my devotion, not enough? Perhaps, if I had told her about my illness, if I had shared my burden, things would have been different. But I had chosen to fight alone, to shield her from the fear and uncertainty, and in doing so, I had pushed her away.
"Doctor, Manoban," a voice broke through my thoughts. It was Doctor Bae, my hematologist-oncologist, the woman who had been my rock throughout this ordeal. Her eyes widened as she saw the blood on my hand.
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"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
"My heart," I whispered, the pain a tangible weight in my chest.
"It hurts, doc," I said, tears welling up in my eyes. Doctor Bae, a beacon of hope in my darkest hours, had become a confidante, a friend. She had always been there, reminding me to take my medicine, checking on my progress, offering a comforting presence in the face of my mortality.
