Who Knows My Heart

On the fifth anniversary of our marriage, Julian promised solemnly he would throw me a grand wedding. His voice was full of regret, saying he hadn't been able to see me in a wedding dress when we first got married, and swore I would be the most beautiful bride in the world.

But on the wedding day, he glanced at a text message, then rushed out the door in a panic. I dragged my heavy gown to the doorway, and he turned back to reassure me: "Claire, something urgent came up at the company. I have to go deal with it immediately." I couldn't be bothered to see through his clumsy lie. I had cancer, and not much time left. I didn't have the strength to argue with him anymore.

1. What Julian didn't know was that I had received the message before he did. I was sitting in front of the vanity mirror when my phone buzzed with a WeChat notification. I opened it and saw the words: "Claire, I won't bother your life anymore. Are you satisfied now?" My heart pounded like a drum. Before I could process it, I saw Julian glance down at his phone, then dash out with a panicked expression. He was always composed and calm—I had never seen him like this. When I chased after him, my skirt almost tripped me. I slammed into the doorframe, my knee stinging with pain. He didn't even look at me. He just closed the car door and left me with that one line. For this wedding, I had put on a strapless mermaid gown in the chilly autumn weather. I wanted to make my life beautiful, just once. But he left me there, along with all the invited friends and family. At that moment, I just wanted to flee. I was too exhausted to clean up the mess he had left me. He was the one who said he wanted to surprise me. He was the one who made me full of anticipation. And he was the one who abandoned me here. But as I looked at the curious gazes around me, I remembered: we weren't newlyweds having a traditional wedding. We had been married for years, and after careful consideration, we had invited only close friends and family—fewer than six tables, all mutual acquaintances. Among them were my college roommates, my work and life friends, who had traveled from afar to indulge my sentimental whim. I stiffly turned around, changed into a simple outfit, and entertained them one by one. Julian's best friend joked, "Sis, you two really know how to have fun—renewing your vows after five years. Don't forget to invite us for the golden and diamond anniversaries!" I smiled and agreed. But in my heart, I knew there wouldn't be a day like that. Even if I lived that long, my marriage to Julian wouldn't last until then. My best friend Zoe squeezed my hand and asked, "Why are your hands so cold? And where's Julian?" I forced a smile and said, "Oh, he's busy. The company called him away again." She gripped my hand tightly. We had known each other for over a decade, and we understood each other too well. When I met her eyes, I almost broke down and cried. I didn't want anyone to notice anything unusual, but inside, I was restless. After finally settling everyone, I collapsed into a chair, too exhausted to speak. Then my mother called, scolding me without even a greeting: "Do you have any conscience at all? Your sister is dying, and you're in the mood for a wedding?" I didn't even have the strength to stand. I listened calmly as she vented. It took a while to piece together what had happened: Serena had had a depressive episode and slit her wrists on the school rooftop. I barely managed to find my voice and said, "Isn't the groom already there to save her? What more do you want me to do? Kill myself to satisfy her? Would that cure her illness?" There was one thing I didn't say: I don't have much time left either. Just a few days. You'll be satisfied soon enough. But I didn't want them to know. I didn't want to see any of them in my final days. "What kind of talk is that? Even your husband couldn't stand it—your sister, who grew up with you, is dying, and you have no reaction at all. How can you be so cold-blooded?" my mother continued to scold. She didn't know that just saying those words had burned my throat like fire. I held back a cough and hung up. Looking at myself in the mirror, I looked like a ghost. Whenever Serena was involved, I always lost. She could effortlessly take everything from me. Serena was my uncle's daughter. After my uncle and aunt died in a car accident, she was taken in by our family. From then on, I heard the same words every day: "Serena has already suffered so much! Why do you have to compete with her? Can't you just let her have this?"

2. That evening, Julian came home looking exhausted. I was tending to the wound on my knee. I didn't really want to bother with it, but it seemed serious. Even a little inflammation now caused me unbearable pain. It would trigger a chain reaction of inflammation. I numbly treated it. I was actually terrified of pain. Every day, I found it hard to fall asleep. Since college, I had suffered from severe anxiety. Whenever I was anxious, I would vomit and suffer from insomnia, always spitting up mouthfuls of sour bile. Julian glanced at me, about to head into the bathroom to shower, when he suddenly noticed the bloody wound on my knee. "What happened? How did you get hurt like this? Why are you so careless?" I ignored him and continued to dress my wound. I didn't feel like talking to him anymore. He slowly sat down beside me and reached for the gauze. I looked up at him coldly. "Claire, I'm sorry! Today was really an accident. Please don't be mad at me, okay?" His eyes looked so sincere. If I hadn't seen what happened with my own eyes, I might have been fooled by that look again. "Julian, let's get a divorce. I'm too tired." I didn't want to look at him anymore. I lowered my head and continued to bandage my wound. As soon as I finished wrapping the gauze, he suddenly pressed down on me, holding me tightly. Maybe it was guilt that made him nervous. He held me so tightly that he even touched my wound. I hissed in pain, and he slowly released me, kneeling in front of me with a sincere expression. "Claire, we'll have many more anniversaries. Don't say the word 'divorce' so casually. It's hurtful." "Julian, this afternoon was the last time I gave you any dignity." I looked him straight in the eye. He froze, then his face twisted in panic. "Claire, it's not what you think. Really. The situation was urgent. I had to go, but I didn't dare tell you directly. I was afraid you'd misunderstand, I..." Julian stammered for the first time. "Julian, what are you afraid of? Am I that scary? Or do you all think I'll bully Serena? Are you afraid I'll bully you now?" I laughed bitterly. "Claire, you're too emotional right now. I don't want to argue with you." He avoided the issue and escaped into the bathroom to shower. I ignored him and went into the study. The moment I closed the door, I felt my hands trembling. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling with my eyes wide open. It was hard for me to fall asleep. I only slept three or four hours a night. I should have woken up a long time ago. Serena was a vibrant red rose, the scarlet birthmark Julian carried in his heart. When I met Julian, he had already broken up with Serena. He never showed me pictures of his ex-girlfriend. I only knew that the relationship had hurt him deeply. But I never imagined his ex-girlfriend was Serena. We had a mutual understanding not to bring it up. It wasn't until after we got married, when we went home for New Year's, that Serena happened to be there too. That was the first time I saw Julian lose his composure. A woman's intuition made me uneasy. I wanted to ask Julian about it, but every time I brought it up, he would dismiss it, saying the past was hard to talk about and would only make him unhappy. After the New Year, Serena went abroad to study the violin, which she loved. My parents sold their house to support her and moved back to the countryside. I couldn't quite describe how I felt at the time. It had always been like this: Serena could afford expensive music lessons, while I couldn't even get tutoring fees. The look on my mother's face when she learned Serena wanted to continue her studies—I'll never forget it. It was full of pride, as if she couldn't believe our family could produce a musician. Julian was by my side then. He held my hand tightly and said, "In my eyes, my wife is the best." He was really good to me. He let me look at his phone anytime, gave me his bank cards to manage—he was the textbook definition of a good man. I had a poor appetite, so he learned to cook and made me meals every day after work. In the evenings, we would walk hand in hand. Life was simple and pure then. I thought it would always be like that. Then Serena came back. She hadn't become a famous musician. She had severe depression. Her arms were covered in scars from razor blades. My mother hugged her and cried uncontrollably. She came to me, her face haggard, and said, "Claire, I regret it. Can you give Julian back to me?" I found the whole thing absurd. Did she think Julian was like the dresses, toys, rooms, and snacks she had taken from me before? She was used to me giving in whenever she asked. I ignored her, thinking she was crazy. She had been with Julian before—she had told me herself. I still remember that New Year's Eve. Fireworks were blooming everywhere. She acted unusually close to me, saying she wanted to watch the fireworks together and dragged me outside. Julian was inside playing cards with the elders. Serena pulled me along, walking and walking.

3. We walked a long, long way. At a park bench, she pulled me down to sit and started talking about the past. "Claire, I never thought the little girl back then would be married now." I didn't know what to say. Then her tone shifted. "Claire, you've always hated me, haven't you?" "Say something!" I really didn't know what to say. "You hate me so much that you married Julian just because he used to be my boyfriend." As soon as she said it, she burst into tears. Fireworks exploded in the sky at that moment. She leaned back on the bench, the light illuminating her tear-streaked face. It was the first time I had seen Serena cry like that. In an instant, I felt my hands and feet go cold. Julian was her ex-boyfriend. We had only been married for less than a month. God knows, if I had known they were together, I would have run as far away as possible. But I didn't know! Julian had walked into my world, saying how much he liked me, accompanying me through my hardest days. "I didn't know you two were together," I finally explained. She glanced at me without a word and walked off on her own. A few days later, she left to pursue her music dream. Before she left, she sent me a text: "You've given in to me so many times. I'll let you have this one." I showed that text to Julian and had a huge fight with him. What did she mean by "let you have"? If he couldn't let her go, he should just go back to her. I'd accept that I had made a mistake. Julian cried out in frustration. He showed me his phone. "Claire, you can't do this to me. I don't even have her on WeChat. I didn't know you two were related." "What would you have done if you knew?" "I would have gotten together with you sooner. I would have run away the moment I saw her. I would have closed my eyes and not looked at her." As he spoke, he closed his eyes. I couldn't help but laugh, and he quickly pulled me into a tight hug. In the years that followed, Serena didn't appear in our lives. I almost forgot about it. Until she finished her studies and came back, broken in body and spirit, like a wilting rose that was even more pitiful. Serena complained of the cold every day—maybe because she came back in winter. My mother's hair turned gray from worry. I even introduced her to a few doctors I knew. Until I saw the way Julian looked at her. I couldn't fool myself. How could you hide the look of someone who cares? It felt like a steel needle piercing my heart, making it hard to breathe. I confronted him. He lost his temper for the first time. "Enough, Claire! She's already like this. What are you still making a fuss about?" I was so angry that tears streamed down my face. He quickly tried to soothe me. "I'm sorry, Claire. I really didn't mean to yell at you. We've been together for so long. Don't you trust me?" I pushed the thought aside for a while. So much time, so much companionship—it made me deceive myself and keep dreaming. Later, he went on a business trip to Tibet. When he came back, it was New Year's. We went to my parents' house to deliver gifts. Without my knowledge, I saw him take out a bag of saffron and hand it to Serena. "I heard from the locals that if you steep this, you won't feel the cold." Then, under her surprised and touched gaze, he took out a good-luck charm. "They say this can also bring you peace and safety." I stayed silent the whole time, feeling dazed. It was like going back to those years when my parents would buy Serena a pile of gifts every time they went out, while I could only watch longingly, like a dog wagging its tail for scraps. On the way home, Julian reached for my hand. I kept pulling away, and then I noticed he had slipped a huge gemstone ring onto my ring finger. I was surprised. He pinched my cheek and said, "Is my little Claire a vinegar factory? I bought the saffron at your mother's request. The charm was just a casual pick-up. They said your sister might have encountered some bad luck." "But this ring—I spent a long time choosing it. As long as I'm here, you'll always be safe." His sweet talk was always so touching. I stared at the pigeon-egg-sized ruby ring, lost in thought. He suddenly kissed my forehead and said, "Claire, let's have a wedding. I've always regretted not giving you one." We looked into each other's eyes. At that moment, I truly believed it was all in my head. He loved me. Tears fell from my eyes. He panicked and wiped them away, asking what was wrong, looking like a child who had done something wrong. At that moment, I really, really wanted to tell him. While he was away on business, my insomnia had gotten worse. I was vomiting so much I couldn't see straight. At first, I thought I might be pregnant. I went to the hospital happily for a checkup. But the doctor, seeing me vomit uncontrollably, suggested a full-body examination. When I got the diagnosis, I couldn't believe it. How could it be? I was so young. How could it be? I went to several other hospitals, but they all gave me the same result. I took out my phone, wanting to tell him. But I couldn't calm down. I couldn't even face myself. I didn't know who to talk to. I didn't know how to say it. The doctor asked me why I hadn't come in sooner. I said I had been like this since college—vomiting whenever I was anxious. He sighed. "Young people put too much pressure on themselves." In college, my mother couldn't afford to support me because she was funding Serena. She only paid my tuition. Every day, she would send me messages and call me, telling me to work hard, to remember our family's situation. Sometimes, at six or seven in the morning, I would get a message from her asking if I had a part-time job, if I was earning money, if I could get a scholarship. She said she was anxious, that the family could never save money, and asked what would happen when they retired. I asked her why she still supported Serena's expensive music lessons. She got angry and scolded me. "Why are you always so petty? Why do you keep picking on Serena? She finally has a dream. Shouldn't I support it?" "What about me?" "What more do you want? I'm already paying for your college. Do you want to drive me to my grave?" She wanted Serena to live the life she wanted, at the cost of my survival. But she didn't see it as a problem. She would just say, "I gave birth to you, I raised you. What more do you want?" Every day, I worried about living expenses, how to make money, how to make my resume look better, how to find a higher-paying job. That was when I met Julian. He comforted me, understood me. Later, when he started his business, I followed him everywhere. To save money, we bought standing-room-only tickets for twenty-hour train rides. He bought two small stools, and we held each other as we sat, him shielding me from the crowd. He whispered in my ear, "I'll make sure you have a good life." But now, I don't have a life to live.

4. Julian didn't know that on the night of the wedding, as we passed a jewelry store near our home, I suddenly felt the name was familiar. On a whim, I walked in and showed the salesgirl the ruby ring on my finger. She was a young girl, barely out of her teens. Her face flushed. "This ring? It was just last Sunday night. We were about to close when a gentleman rushed in, straight from the airport, to buy it for his wife." "He must really love his wife, to be in such a hurry." "Was he in a hurry because he did something wrong?" I murmured, not sure who I was talking to. She stood there awkwardly. I turned and left. I wondered why he had suddenly bought a ring. On the way home, he had bought gifts for everyone except me. Maybe out of laziness, or maybe a bit of guilt, he bought me an expensive ring. My feelings of gratitude seemed so ridiculous now. In those nights, I was terrified countless times. I wanted to tell him, to tell him about my illness, to get a little bit of that warmth that didn't exist. But it was just my own wishful thinking. I lay in bed, tears streaming down my face. The door suddenly opened. Julian pinned me down and kissed away my tears. "Claire, what do I have to do to stop you from overthinking?" A violent wave of nausea rose in my throat. With a strength I didn't know I had, I broke free from him and ran to the bathroom, vomiting violently. He looked humiliated. "Claire? What are you doing? Can't I even touch you now? How can you treat me like this?" I ignored him and collapsed to the floor. It took me a while to find the strength to stand up. I splashed cold water on my face and said, "Let's get a divorce. I'm serious." He threw a towel at me and turned away. "Dream on!" I watched his retreating figure and whispered, "You will."

5. I went to the hospital for a painkiller shot. I couldn't even swallow pills anymore. Then I went straight to Serena's hospital. I just sat there. She got so emotional she pulled out her own IV, blood spraying everywhere, and screamed at me, "Claire, what do you want? Can't you just leave me alone?" I didn't say anything. I quietly peeled an orange. When I finally finished, I realized I couldn't eat it. I was on a liquid diet now. There were so many things I wanted to taste, but I couldn't even do this. I held out the orange to her. "Want an orange? It should be sweet." I wanted to taste it so badly, even if it was sour. But Serena got even more agitated. She knocked the orange out of my hand and cried uncontrollably. My mother rushed in, carrying food for Serena. The dishes looked familiar, but I didn't have time to think about it. She slapped me across the face. "What did Serena do to you? Why do you keep picking on her?" The slap made my nose bleed. I looked at the blood on the floor without a word, then got up and left the room. My mother followed me out. She wanted to say something. Finally, she grabbed my arm. "Claire, what's wrong with you? Are you stressed? Why have you lost so much weight lately?" "None of your business." "I'm your mother!" she snapped. "Really? I don't believe you." I smiled at her. As I smiled, tears started falling. But she cried even louder than me. "I'm your mother! What do you want me to do? Can't you understand me?" "I named you Claire. You used to be so understanding when you were little. How did you become like this?" I couldn't listen anymore. Maybe because I hadn't eaten enough, my head was spinning. I fled the place like I was escaping. But as long as Julian refused to sign the divorce papers, I would have to keep coming here. Let's torture each other.

6. Julian came home in a hurry. I was staring at a bowl of mushy porridge, struggling. I tried to swallow a few spoonfuls, but I threw them all up. I drank some sugar water and forced it down. "Claire, what are you doing?" He tried to keep his voice calm, but it was strained. "Can you make me a bowl of noodles?" Julian was a good cook. His noodles were especially good. But he hadn't cooked in a long time. I couldn't remember if it was because he was busy or for some other reason. I had been on a liquid diet for days, drinking through a straw. For some reason, I craved noodles. The kind Julian made. I had been to many restaurants, but I could never find that taste. But I knew I couldn't swallow them. I just wanted to smell them. "She's already like that. Can you please stop going to see her?" he pleaded. His words stabbed my heart like a knife. I remembered when our love was at its peak, I had told him he was my closest person. I really meant it then. But I never thought this closeness would be so short-lived. "Divorce me. Then I'll stop going to see her," I said stubbornly. "You're impossible!" He turned and left, slamming the door behind him. Julian once said he would never let me regret marrying him. But I did regret it. I didn't understand why I wanted a divorce so badly. I didn't have many days left anyway. But whenever I thought about those days, I felt sick. Do people always change? Why so suddenly? How could he do this to me? How could he? Why did I have to offer my heart to be trampled on? They all liked to trample on me. Now I just wanted to get away. Was that too much to ask? I kept going to see Serena every day. Anyone watching would have thought we were close sisters. And then I finally figured out who had made that food. When Serena saw me looking at her meal, she taunted me, "Want some? Julian made it. I can only eat what he makes now." For the first time, I almost lost to her. Before I even left the hospital, I got a call from Julian. His voice was irritated. "Claire, can you stop this? Serena is sick." "Divorce me. Then I'll stop," I said, repeating myself. When I reached the intersection, I wanted to throw myself in front of a car. But then I thought about how unfair that would be to the driver. Everyone had their own struggles. I couldn't burden others with my death. I stepped back and watched the crowd surge, the cars come and go. All I could think about was Julian cooking for Serena. Ironic. So ironic. He always looked tired. I sympathized with him and learned to cook his favorite dishes, waiting for him to come home and eat, even though I couldn't eat anything myself. I understood how hard he worked. But he was working hard every day to make nutritious meals for Serena. Julian, how could you? If I had time, I would take him to court, fight him tooth and nail. But I only had a few days left. Maybe the heavens heard my wish, or maybe Serena couldn't hold on anymore. That day, I went to see Serena again. We argued at the top of the stairs. I envied her ability to breathe easily and have energy while yelling. My mother had called Julian over too. Serena was crying, her face streaked with tears. "I really don't want to see you. Go die!" I stayed silent. She grabbed my arm and shook me violently. "What do you want?" I turned to look at Julian, my meaning clear. Serena was so agitated that she lost her footing and almost fell. Then I saw Julian rush over in a panic to catch her. I tumbled down the stairs. There were some pieces of glass at the landing. I put my hands up to protect myself. Bang! The glass shattered. My arm, covered in my white sweater, was embedded with shards. There were some on my face too. I must have looked a mess. I hadn't looked good in a long time. I didn't even dare to look in the mirror anymore. I was so ugly! Julian rushed down. "What happened? How did this happen?" Blood stained my sweater red. Julian tried to pick me up. I pushed against his chest, trying not to let my tears fall. "Can we get a divorce? If we do, I won't come anymore." "I promise I won't bother you." "Can we get a divorce?"

7. I really didn't have much time left. I couldn't afford to wait. I couldn't wait. And I didn't want to see Serena anymore. I didn't want to see my mother acting like a mother hen protecting her chick. But I really didn't want to die as Julian's wife. I didn't want them to handle my affairs after I was gone. What if there was a next life, and I ran into them again? Julian's face was grim. "Do you hate me that much? That you would do something like this just to divorce me?" "Fine. Have it your way." That was the easiest day I'd had in a long time. The hospital bandaged my wounds quickly, and we went to sign the papers. But we had to wait a month. I was in so much pain. I begged the clerk, "We both agree. Can't we do it now?" They said, "You've been together for years. Can't you wait one more month?" No, I couldn't. The doctor said I didn't have much time. He couldn't say exactly when. I really couldn't wait that month. Julian's face was dark. "Claire, are you that eager to get rid of me?" I didn't want to see him anymore. Not even a glance. I had so few days left. I wanted these last few days for myself. I got up to leave. He stopped me. "We split everything fifty-fifty. The lawyers need time to divide the assets. If you rush, you'll lose a lot. It's not like you can't wait a little longer." "Keep it all. It's all yours." I paused, then added, "Julian, let's never see each other again. I hope you get what you want." "Claire, can you stop being so childish?" he shouted angrily behind me. I ignored him and bought a plane ticket to Dali. I had a house there, bought a year ago. It had a small courtyard with a huge jacaranda tree. I heard it would bloom with lots of flowers in May or June. I had gotten a big commission from a project and fell in love with the courtyard at first sight. It was in a remote area, so it was cheap. Good thing I hadn't mentioned it. Now I had a place to go. A few nights after I arrived at the little house, the pain was so intense I couldn't sleep. I got up and gave myself a painkiller shot. Then I got a call from my mother. She scolded me without even a greeting. "Are you crazy? Divorcing a good man like Julian?" "To make room for your precious Serena?" "Claire, what nonsense are you talking about?" she shouted angrily. "If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up," I said calmly. "Aren't you going to take care of me? You got a divorce settlement and now you're living the good life. You're not even going to take care of your own parents?" She started crying again. "How much do you want?" "Do you find me that annoying? You came out of my womb." She started her usual litany, like a curse that controlled me like a puppet. As long as she recited this curse or something similar, I was supposed to obey. "If you don't tell me, I'm hanging up," I said impatiently. "Three hundred thousand. Give me three hundred thousand. Serena needs treatment, and we need to rent a place," she said tentatively. "I'll give you five hundred thousand." I had about six hundred thousand left. The rest would be enough for my remaining days. That money was enough for her retirement. But if she wanted to keep supporting Serena, I couldn't do anything about it. "Why are you being so generous?" I muttered to myself. "Mom, do I still owe you?" "What are you talking about?" "Haven't I paid you back yet? How much more do you want? What else do you want me to do?" "Claire? Claire?" She called my name nervously. "I'll give you five hundred thousand. Then you won't be my mother anymore, okay?" "I won't be your daughter anymore, okay?" "I didn't choose this. I can't help it. I'll give you money, okay?" "After this, you can't be my mother anymore." I hung up before she could respond. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I kept telling myself, it's okay. It'll all be over soon. These last few days are mine. There's only a few days left. There was a little stove in the room. The heater was on, but I was still so cold. I wrapped myself tightly in the blanket. The winter sun shone through the curtains I hadn't fully closed, bright on my face. I realized it had been light for a long time. I propped myself up and pulled the curtain open. Mountains stretched into the distance, misty clouds drifting. The view was breathtakingly beautiful. I would see fewer and fewer beautiful days like this. I regretted all the days I had wasted. Before I could look a little longer, my phone rang. I was so annoyed I wanted to smash it. But Zoe was coming to visit me in a couple of days. I wanted to see her. If I smashed my phone, she wouldn't be able to reach me. I wanted to see her as much as I could. I picked up the phone. It was my father. "Claire, your mother has lost her mind. Don't listen to her. Keep the money for yourself." "Claire, are you okay? I'm sorry. It's all my fault. It's okay that you're divorced. Where are you now?" He rarely spoke so much. But I didn't feel anything. He was my father. My biological father. All these years, he had worked hard to support the family. But he had also stood by and watched my situation, telling me to understand them, to understand why my mother did what she did. They named me Claire, meaning "knowing others' intentions." I was supposed to be understanding, to be sensible, to be good. But they never taught me how to know my own intentions. Every day, I didn't know why I was living. For one goal after another: study hard, let Serena have her way, save money for the family, earn money for the family. "Dad!" "Yes, I'm listening!" "I don't owe you anything anymore, do I?" "Ah... Claire! Claire!" he kept calling my name. "I mean, I don't owe you anything anymore, right?" I repeated. "Claire! I'm sorry! It's all my fault! It's all my fault!" "Dad, can you do me a favor?" I thought about it and pleaded. "Tell me. If I can do it, I will." He suddenly perked up. "Can I stop being your daughter?" He didn't say anything. I just heard muffled sobs. I continued, "Being your child is too tiring. I'm so tired. Can I stop? Please don't contact me anymore. Don't look for me anymore." "We're even now." After a long pause, he finally spoke. "No one will make you suffer anymore. No one will." I hung up, tears streaming down my face. Then I started coughing and vomiting violently. I was in so much pain that I lost all strength and fell asleep.

8. When I woke up, Zoe was by my side. Her eyes were red from crying. I wiped her tears and said, "What are you crying for? Your sister is going to scout the way for you. When you're a hundred years old and come down, I'll have your back..." Before I could finish, she grabbed me and hugged me tightly. "Claire, you idiot! You idiot!" "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I patted her back to comfort her. "I'm telling you now, aren't I?" She didn't answer. She wiped her tears and went to make me some liquid food. She was well-prepared, like she knew exactly what to do. She was even more professional than me. "How long have you been eating like this?" I looked down, not meeting her eyes. "Don't worry about it. I can't keep track of the days." A big tear fell on my blanket. "Don't cry. You're the only one I told. Let me remember your smile." I tried to comfort her, but my tears started falling too. She reached out and wiped them away. Crying like this wasn't good. I thought for a moment and asked, "How many days off do you have this time? The scenery here is beautiful. Let me show you around." "I quit my job," she said calmly. "Are you crazy? Why did you quit?" "You worked so hard for this. And now you're throwing it away? Have you lost your mind?" "You..." She ignored me and cleaned up the dishes. "Claire, I can afford to miss a few days of work. But every day I see you is one less day. Let's not be so stingy, okay?" She said it with her back to me. At that moment, I suddenly felt like my life wasn't so bad after all.

9. After we signed the papers that day, I blocked Julian on all platforms. Zoe picked up the divorce certificate for me. She told me that Julian kept asking about me, demanding to know what was wrong. Zoe ignored him. When she told me, I didn't react. I just said flatly, "I don't want to hear anything about him anymore. I never want to see him again." "Okay. I'll never let him see you." Zoe comforted me like I was a child. My illness got worse. I often couldn't sleep all night from the pain. At first, Zoe still slept with me. Later, I acted spoiled and said, "I want to sleep alone in the big bed. Let me have my way, okay?" She nodded silently. One night, when the pain was so bad I couldn't sleep, she burst in with a painkiller shot. "Does it hurt? You should have called me! You should have called me, Claire!" There were times when the pain was so unbearable I wanted to die. I looked up euthanasia online, only to find I couldn't even afford to die. Euthanasia in Switzerland cost about seven hundred thousand. I gave up on that idea. One night, I got a call from an unknown number. As soon as I heard Julian's voice, I hung up. He texted me, saying, "I need to handle the asset division in person." I wanted to tell him to stop bothering me. But then I thought about euthanasia. My hands were shaking so much from the pain that I could barely type. But the excruciating pain made me want to try. "Just give me seven hundred thousand. You can keep the rest." "Claire, where are you? I want to see you. I'm sorry. Just one look, okay?" Forget it. I'll just die on my own. I blocked that number too. I lay in bed, my clothes soaked with sweat. I lay there, fully awake, feeling the pain. Suddenly, I saw the sky begin to lighten. I felt a little bit of strength. I changed my clothes. Zoe had bought me a pink jacket. She used to say I shouldn't dress like an old lady when I was still young. She loved giving me pink things. I