What the Heart Knows

On the fifth anniversary of our marriage, Julian swore he would make it up to me with a lavish wedding.

He spoke with such regret about how we had skipped the ceremony when we first got married, and insisted I would be the most radiant bride.

But on the wedding day, he glanced at a text message and vanished in a panic.

I dragged my heavy train after him out the door, and he tried to soothe me: "Claire, there's an emergency at the company. I have to go."

He was never any good at lying, but I couldn't be bothered to call him out anymore.

Because I had just found out I had cancer. My days were numbered.

1.

Julian didn't know I had seen the message before him.

I was staring blankly at the vanity mirror when my phone chimed. The screen lit up with a line of text: "Claire, I won't be in your way anymore. Are you happy now?"

My heart started racing before I could even process the words. Beside me, Julian had already glanced at the phone, his face went pale, and he rushed out.

He was always so composed and steady. I had never seen him lose his composure like that.

I gathered my skirts and chased after him, nearly tripping. My knee slammed into the doorframe, a sharp, searing pain.

But he didn't even look at me. He just pulled open the car door and threw out that one excuse.

For this wedding, I had put on a strapless mermaid gown in the chill of autumn, wanting to leave myself one beautiful memory. Just one. That would be enough.

But he left me standing there alone, along with all the friends and family we had invited.

For a few seconds, I wanted nothing more than to run away. I was so tired. I didn't want 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 anticipate it. And he was the one who abandoned me there.

But I looked around at the curious eyes. We weren't newlyweds going through the motions. These were close friends and family we had solemnly invited after years of marriage. Fewer than six tables, all people we knew.

Among them were my college roommate and my work friends, who had traveled from afar to indulge my sentimental whim.

I forced myself to turn around, changed into something comfortable, and went to greet them one by one.

Julian's best friend joked, "Sister-in-law, you two really know how to have fun. Getting married for five years and then having the wedding. Don't forget to invite us for the golden and diamond anniversaries!"

I smiled and agreed.

But deep down, I knew there wouldn't be a day like that. Even if I lived that long, my marriage to Julian wouldn't last.

My best friend Zoe grabbed my hand. Her touch was icy cold. "Why are your hands so cold? Where's Julian?"

I forced a smile. "Oh, he's busy. Called back to the company again."

She held my hand tightly. We had known each other for over a decade, and she could read me like a book. When our eyes met, I almost broke down and cried.

I didn't want anyone to see through me, but my heart was burning with frustration.

After I finally managed to settle everyone, I collapsed into a chair, too exhausted to speak.

Then my mother called. She started yelling before I could even say hello: "Do you have any conscience at all? Your sister is dying, and you're still thinking about your wedding?"

I didn't even have the strength to stand. I listened to her vent in silence.

It took me a while to piece together what had happened. Sylvia had had a depressive episode and slit her wrists on the school rooftop.

I barely found my voice. "Isn't the groom already there to save her? What else do you want me to do? Kill myself to make her feel better? Will that cure her?"

I didn't say the rest: I don't have much time left either. Just a few days. You'll get what you want 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? Your husband can't stand it either. 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 kept scolding. She didn't know that when I said those words, my throat felt like it was on fire.

I held back my cough and hung up. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a ghost.

Whenever Sylvia was involved, I was doomed to lose. She could always take everything from me so easily.

Sylvia was my uncle's daughter. After my uncle and aunt died in a car accident, she came to live with us.

From then on, every day I heard the same thing: "Sylvia has been through enough. Why do you have to compete with her? Can't you just let her have this?"

2.

That night, Julian came home looking exhausted. I was tending to the wound on my knee. I didn't really want to bother, but it seemed to be getting worse. Any inflammation now could trigger a chain reaction that would be unbearable. I treated it numbly. I was actually terrified of pain. Falling asleep was a daily struggle.

I had suffered from severe anxiety since college. Whenever I got anxious, I would vomit and lose sleep. I would end up spitting up bitter bile.

Julian glanced at me. He was about to go into the bathroom to shower, but then he noticed the bloody wound on my knee. "What happened? How did you get this? Why weren't you more careful?"

I ignored him and kept tending to my wound.

I didn't want to talk 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. Don't be mad at me, okay?" His eyes looked so sincere.

If it weren't for the facts staring me in the face, I would have been fooled by his act 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 with the bandage.

I finished wrapping it quickly. Suddenly, he pressed down on me and hugged me tightly.

Maybe it was guilt. He held me so tight that he pressed against my wound.

I hissed in pain. He slowly loosened his grip and knelt in front of me, speaking earnestly: "Claire, we have many more anniversaries ahead of us. Don't use the word 'divorce' so lightly. It hurts."

"Julian, this afternoon was the last bit of dignity I gave you." I looked him straight in the eye.

He froze, and then his face twisted with 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 because I was afraid you'd misunderstand. I..."

Julian stuttered for the first time.

"Julian, what are you afraid of? Am I that scary? Or are you all afraid I'll bully Sylvia? Now even you're afraid I'll bully you?" I laughed bitterly.

"Claire, you're too emotional right now. I don't want to fight with you."

He avoided the topic and escaped into the bathroom.

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. I had trouble falling asleep. I only managed three or four hours a night.

I should have woken up a long time ago.

Sylvia was the vibrant red rose, the vermilion mole that Julian kept close to his heart.

When I met Julian, he had already broken up with Sylvia. He never showed me pictures of his ex-girlfriend. I only knew that the relationship had hurt him deeply. But I never knew his ex-girlfriend was Sylvia.

We both tacitly never mentioned it.

It wasn't until after we got our marriage certificate that I found out. We went home for the New Year, and Sylvia happened to be there too.

That day, I saw Julian lose his composure for the first time.

Woman's intuition made me uneasy.

I wanted to ask Julian, but every time I brought it up, he would say the past wasn't worth discussing, that it would only make people unhappy, and he would cut me off.

After the New Year, Sylvia went abroad to study, to pursue her beloved violin.

My parents sold their house to support her and moved back to the countryside to live.

I couldn't quite describe the feeling at the time. It had always been like this. Sylvia could afford expensive music lessons, but I couldn't even get money for tutoring.

I will never forget the expression on my mother's face when she learned that Sylvia was going to continue her studies. She was beaming with pride, saying she never thought our family would produce a musician.

Julian was beside me 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 through his phone anytime. He gave me his bank card. He was the textbook definition of a good husband.

I had a poor appetite, so he learned to cook. He would come home every day and make me dinner.

In the evenings, we would walk hand in hand. Life was simple and pure back then. I thought it would last forever.

Then Sylvia came back. She didn't become a famous musician. Instead, she came back with severe depression.

Her arms were covered in scars from eyebrow razors. My mother held her and cried her heart out.

She came to me, looking haggard. "Claire, I regret it. Can you give Julian back to me?"

I thought it was absurd. She thought Julian was like the skirts, toys, rooms, and snacks she had taken from me before.

She was used to me giving in whenever she asked.

I ignored her. I thought she was crazy.

She had been with Julian. She had told me herself.

I vaguely remember that New Year's Eve. Fireworks were blooming everywhere. She acted friendly for the first time, pulling me to go watch the fireworks together.

Julian was inside playing cards with the elders.

Sylvia dragged me along, walking without stopping.

3.

We walked a long way. She pulled me down onto a bench in a park and started talking about the past. She sighed and said, "Claire, I never thought that the little girl I knew would be married now."

I was at a loss for words.

Then her tone changed abruptly. "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 was my boyfriend." As she said this, she burst into tears.

The fireworks exploded at that moment. She leaned back on the bench, the light illuminating her tear-streaked face. It was the first time I had seen Sylvia 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.

I swear, if I had known they had been together, I would have run as far away as possible.

But I didn't know! Julian had come into my world, telling me how much he liked me, accompanying me through the hardest times.

"I didn't know you two were together," I finally explained.

She glanced at me, said nothing, and walked away.

A few days later, she left to pursue her musical dreams. Before she left, she sent me a text: "I've let you have things so many times. I'll let you have this one."

I showed that text to Julian and we had a huge fight. What did she mean, "let me have him"?

If Julian couldn't let her go, he should go back to her. I would just pretend I had made a mistake.

Julian shouted that it was a terrible accusation. He pulled out his phone. "Claire, you can't do this to me. I don't even have her on WeChat. I didn't know you were related."

"What would you have done if you had known?"

"I would have found you sooner. I would have hidden from her. I would have closed my eyes and not looked at her." He closed his eyes as he spoke.

I couldn't help but laugh. He quickly pulled me into a tight hug.

In the years that followed, Sylvia 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, even more pitiable.

Sylvia complained of being cold all the time. Maybe it was because she came back in winter. My mother was so worried she grew a lot of white hair. I even introduced her to a few doctors I knew.

Until I saw the way Julian looked at her. I couldn't lie to myself. How could you hide the pity in your eyes?

I felt like a steel needle had pierced my heart. The pain took my breath away.

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?"

His anger made me cry. He quickly came 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 tried to push the thought away for a while. Our long history together, his long companionship, let me deceive myself and keep dreaming.

Later, he went on a business trip to Tibet. He came back on New Year's Day. We went to my parents' house to give them gifts.

Without my knowledge, I saw him hand a bag of saffron to Sylvia. "The locals said if you steep this, you won't feel the cold."

Then, under her surprised and touched gaze, he took out a peace charm. "They say this can also keep you safe and sound."

I stayed silent the whole time. I felt a little dazed. It was like being transported back to my childhood, when my parents would buy a mountain of gifts for Sylvia, and I could only watch, like a dog begging for scraps.

On the way home, Julian tried to take my hand. I struggled. Then I noticed that he had slipped a huge gemstone ring onto my ring finger. I was a little surprised.

He pinched my cheek. "Is my little Claire a vinegar factory? The saffron was something your mother asked me to buy. The peace charm was just an extra. They said your sister might have been possessed by something evil."

"But the ring, I picked out myself. As long as I'm here, you'll always be safe." He was always so charming when he said sweet things.

I stared at the pigeon's-egg-sized ruby ring, lost in thought. He suddenly kissed my forehead. "Claire, let's have a wedding. I've always felt bad that I never gave you one."

Our eyes met. In that moment, I truly believed that my suspicions were just my imagination. He loved me.

Tears suddenly streamed down my face. He panicked and wiped them away, asking me what was wrong, looking like a child who had done something wrong.

In that moment, I wanted so badly to tell him.

While he was away on his business trip, 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. But the doctor, seeing me vomiting nonstop, suggested a full-body checkup.

When I got the diagnosis, I couldn't believe it. How could this be? I was so young. How could this be?

I went to several other hospitals. The results were the same.

I took out my phone to tell him. But I couldn't calm down. I couldn't even face it 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 sooner.

I told him I had been like this since college. I would vomit whenever I got anxious.

He sighed. "Young people are under too much pressure."

When I was in college, my mother was supporting Sylvia. She couldn't afford to give me any money. She only paid my tuition. She would text and call me every day, telling me to work hard, to be aware of my 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 making money, if I could get a scholarship.

She said she was anxious. The family never had any savings. How would they support themselves in their old age?

I asked her why she still had to support Sylvia's expensive music lessons. She got angry and yelled, "Why are you always so petty? Why can't you let go of Sylvia? Sylvia finally has a dream. Shouldn't I support her?"

"And 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 to let Sylvia 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, and I raised you. What more do you want?"

Every day, I worried about my living expenses, how to make money, how to make my resume look good, how to find a better-paying job.

That was when I met Julian. He soothed me. He understood me.

Later, he started his own business. I went with him everywhere. To save money, we bought standing-room-only tickets for twenty-hour train rides. He bought two little stools, and we held each other as we sat, him shielding me from the crowd.

He whispered in my ear, "I'm going to give you a good life."

But now, I have no life left.

4.

Julian didn't know that on the night of the wedding, when I passed by the jewelry store not far from home, I suddenly felt the name was familiar.

On a whim, I walked in. I showed the salesgirl the ruby ring on my finger and asked about it.

She was a young girl. Her face flushed. "This ring? It was 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 love his wife very much. Why else would he be in such a hurry?"

"Was he in such a hurry because he had done something wrong?" I said softly, not sure who I was talking to. She stood there awkwardly.

I turned and left.

I told myself, of course he suddenly bought a ring. He had bought gifts for everyone else on the way home, but forgot about me. To avoid the trouble, and maybe out of a little guilt, he bought me an expensive ring.

My moment of感动 seemed so ridiculous.

In the nights that followed, I was terrified. I wanted so badly to tell him about my illness, to get a little bit of the warmth that wasn't really there. But I was just fooling myself.

I lay in bed, tears streaming down my face.

The door suddenly opened. Julian pinned me down and kissed my tears away. "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 pushed him away and ran to the bathroom, where I threw up.

He looked humiliated. "Claire? What are you doing? I can't even touch you now? How can you treat me like this?"

I ignored him. I collapsed on the floor. After a while, I found the strength to stand up. I splashed cold water on my face. "Divorce me. I'm serious."

He threw a tissue at me and turned away. "Dream on."

I watched his retreating figure.

I whispered to myself, "You will."

5.

I went to the hospital for a painkiller shot. I couldn't even swallow pills anymore.

Then I went straight to Sylvia's hospital. Every time I sat down next to her, she would get so emotional she couldn't control herself. She would pull out her IV, blood spraying everywhere, and scream at me, "Claire, what do you want? Can't you leave me alone?"

I didn't say anything. I just 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 it out to her. "Want an orange? It should be sweet." I wanted to taste it so badly. Even if it was sour.

But Sylvia got even more agitated. She knocked the orange out of my hand and cried uncontrollably.

My mother rushed in, carrying a lunchbox for Sylvia. The food looked familiar, but I didn't have time to think about it.

She slapped me across the face. "What did Sylvia do to you? Why can't you leave her alone?"

The slap made my nose bleed. I looked at the blood on the floor, said nothing, and got up to leave 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 getting overheated? 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. But as I smiled, tears started streaming down my face.

She started crying even louder. "I'm your mother. What do you want me to do? Can't you try to understand me?"

"I named you Claire. You used to be so understanding. How did you become like this?"

I couldn't listen anymore. Maybe it was because I hadn't eaten much, but my head was spinning. I fled from that place.

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 up.

I drank some sugar water and forced it down.

"Claire, what are you doing?" He tried to keep his voice low, but I could hear the anger.

"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 everything through a straw. For some reason, I craved noodles. The kind Julian made. I had tried many restaurants, but I could never find that flavor.

But I knew I couldn't swallow them. I just wanted to smell them.

"She's already like that. Can you just leave her alone?" he begged.

His words cut my heart like a knife. I remembered when we were deeply in love. I had told him he was the person closest to me.

I had meant it. But I never thought the closeness would be so short-lived.

"Divorce me. Then I'll leave her alone," I said stubbornly.

"You're impossible!" He turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Julian once said he would never let me regret marrying him.

But I did.

I didn't understand why I wanted a divorce so badly. I didn't have much time left anyway.

But every time I thought about those days, it hurt. People change, don't they? How could it happen so suddenly? How could he do this to me? How could he?

Why did I have to offer up my heart to be trampled on? They all loved to trample on me. Now all I wanted was to get away. Was that too much to ask?

I kept going to see Sylvia every day. You might think we were close sisters. And then I finally figured out who had made that food.

Sylvia saw me looking at her lunchbox and taunted me: "Want some? Julian made it. I can only eat what he makes now."

For the first time, I almost lost my composure in front of her.

I hadn't even left the hospital when I got a call from Julian. His voice was irritable. "Claire, stop this. Sylvia is sick."

"Divorce me. Then I'll stop," I said, repeating myself.

When I got to 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 was struggling. I couldn't burden someone else with my death.

I stepped back and watched the crowd of people and the traffic.

My mind was filled with the image of Julian cooking for Sylvia. It was ironic. So ironic. He always looked so tired. I tried to be understanding. I learned to cook his favorite dishes and waited for him to come home to eat, even though I couldn't eat anything myself.

I understood that he was tired. But he was tired from running off to cook nutritious meals for Sylvia every day.

Julian, how could you?

If I had time, I would take him to court. I would fight him. But I only had a few days left.

Maybe the heavens heard my prayer. Or maybe Sylvia couldn't take it anymore.

That day, I went to see Sylvia as usual.

We were arguing on the stairwell. I envied her. She could breathe easily and had so much energy when she was yelling.

My mother had called Julian too. Sylvia was crying, her face streaked with tears. "I really don't want to see you. Go die!"

I said nothing. She grabbed my arm and shook me violently. "What do you want from me?"

I turned to look at Julian. My meaning was clear.

Sylvia was getting more and more agitated. She pulled on me, lost her balance, and almost fell.

Then I saw Julian rush over and catch her.

I tumbled down the stairs. There was a piece of glass at the landing. I put my hand out to block it. *Crash!*

The glass shattered. My white sweater was covered in shards. There were some on my face too. I must have looked a mess. I must have looked terrible.

I hadn't looked good in a long time. I couldn't even bear to look in the mirror. I was so ugly.

Julian rushed down the stairs. "What happened? How did this happen?"

My blood was staining my sweater red. Julian tried to pick me up. I pushed against his chest, fighting back the tears. "Divorce me, okay? If you divorce me, I won't come anymore."

"I promise I won't bother you."

"Divorce me, okay?"

7.

I didn't have much time left. I couldn't afford to wait. I couldn't keep going to see Sylvia.

I didn't want to see my mother acting like a mother hen protecting her chick.

But most of all, I didn't want to die as Julian's wife. I didn't want them to have to deal with my affairs after I was gone. What if there really was an afterlife, and I ran into them again?

Julian's face was grim. "Do you hate me so much that you would do something like this just to get a divorce?"

"Fine. Have it your way."

That was the easiest day I had in a long time. The hospital bandaged my wounds quickly. We went to sign the papers. But we had to wait a month.

I was so upset. I pleaded with the clerk: "We both agree. Can't we do it now?"

The clerk said, "You've been together for years. What's one more month?"

It was everything! The doctor said I didn't have much time. It could be any day now. I really couldn't afford 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 for a second.

My time was so short. I wanted these last few days for myself.

I got up to leave. He stopped me. "We'll split everything fifty-fifty. The lawyers need time to divide the assets. If you rush, you'll lose a lot. It's not worth it."

"Keep it all. It's yours."

I paused, then continued: "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. I bought a ticket to Dali. I had a house there. I bought it a year ago.

It had a small yard with a huge jacaranda tree. I heard it would bloom with many, many flowers in May or June.

I had gotten a big commission from a project, and I fell in love with the yard at first sight. It was in a remote area, so it was cheap.

Good thing I never got around to telling anyone about 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 started yelling at me. "Have you lost your mind? Divorcing a good man like Julian?"

"To make room for your precious Sylvia?"

"Claire, what nonsense are you talking about?" she said angrily.

"I'm hanging up if there's nothing else," I said calmly.

"Aren't you going to take care of me? You got a divorce settlement and now you're going to live the good life, and you don't even care about 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 chanting again, like it was a spell, and I was the puppet under its control. As long as she chanted that spell, or something like it, I had to obey.

"If you don't tell me, I'm hanging up," I said impatiently.

"Thirty thousand. Give me thirty thousand. Sylvia needs treatment, and we need to rent a place." She said it tentatively.

"I'll give you fifty thousand." I had about sixty thousand left. That would be enough for my remaining days. It was enough for her to live on in her old age. But if she was going to keep supporting Sylvia, there was nothing I could do about it.

"Why are you being so generous?"

I muttered to myself, "Mom, do I still owe you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Isn't it paid off yet? How much more do you want? What else do I have to do?"

"Claire? Claire?" She sounded uneasy as she called my name.

"I'll give you fifty thousand. Then you won't be my mother anymore, okay?"

"Can I stop being your daughter?"

"I didn't choose this! I can't help it! I'll give you the money, okay?"

"After this, you can't be my mother anymore."

I hung up before she could say anything else. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I kept telling myself, it's okay. It will be over soon. It's all over.

These last few days are mine. Just these last few days.

There was a little stove in the room. I had the air conditioner on, but I was still so cold. I wrapped myself tightly in the blanket.

The winter sun shone through the curtains I hadn't pulled shut, bright on my face. I realized it had been light for a long time.

I propped myself up and pulled the curtains open. The mountains stretched out before me, shrouded in mist. It was a beautiful view.

I knew I would see fewer and fewer of these beautiful days. I regretted all the days I had wasted.

I hadn't even had a chance to look at it for long when my phone rang. I was so annoyed. I wanted to smash it. But Zoe was coming to see 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 had to see her one last time.

I picked up the phone. It was my father.

"Claire, don't listen to your mother. She's crazy. Keep the money for yourself."

"Claire, are you okay? I'm sorry. It's all my fault. It's okay that you got a divorce. Where are you now?" He, who rarely spoke, said so much at once. But I felt nothing.

He was my father. My biological father.

All these years, he had worked a very hard job to support the family.

But he had also stood by and watched my suffering, telling me to understand them, to understand why my mother did what she did.

They named me Claire, hoping I would understand others' intentions, be considerate, be obedient, be good.

But they never taught me how to understand my own heart.

Every day, I didn't know why I was living. I lived for one goal after another: study hard, let Sylvia have her way, save money for the family, make money for the family.

"Dad!"

"I'm listening!"

"I don't owe you anything anymore, do I?"

"Ah... 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 for a moment and pleaded.

"Tell me. If I can do it, I will." He perked up.

"Can I stop being your daughter?"

He didn't say anything. I could only hear the sound of suppressed crying.

I continued: "It's too tiring being your child. 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 silence, he finally spoke: "No one will make you suffer anymore. No one will."

I hung up. Tears streamed down my face. Then I started coughing and vomiting violently.

I was in so much pain that I passed out.

8.

When I woke up, Zoe was beside me. Her eyes were red from crying.

I wiped her tears away. "What are you crying for? Your sister is just going to scout the way for you. When you're a hundred years old and you come down, I'll have your back..."

Before I could finish, she threw her arms around me. "Claire, you idiot! You idiot!"

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

I patted her back and tried to soothe her. "I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

She ignored me. She wiped her tears and went to make me some liquid food. She was well-prepared, like she knew what she was doing. She was even more professional than me.

"How long have you been eating this?"

I looked down and didn't answer her. "Don't worry about it. I can't keep track of the days anymore."

A big tear fell onto my blanket.

"Don't cry! You're the only one I told. I want to remember you smiling." I tried to comfort her, but my tears started falling too.

She reached out and wiped my tears away.

We couldn't keep crying like this. I thought for a moment and asked, "How many days off do you have this time? The scenery here is beautiful. I'll take you sightseeing."

"I quit my job," she said calmly.

"Are you crazy? Why did you quit?"

"You worked so hard for this. And you're just throwing it away? Have you lost your mind?"

"You..."

She ignored me completely and cleaned up the dishes.

"Claire, my life won't be ruined by a few days off. But every day I see you is one less day I have with you. Don't be so stingy, okay?"

She said this with her back to me.

In that moment, I suddenly felt like my life hadn't been so bad after all.

9.

After I signed the papers that day, I blocked Julian on all platforms.

Zoe picked up the divorce certificate for me. She told me that Julian had been asking about me, asking her what was wrong with me. She ignored him.

When she came back and told me, I had no reaction.

I just said, "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 soothed me like a child.

My illness was getting worse. I was often in so much pain that I couldn't sleep.

At first, Zoe still slept with me. But then I begged her, "I just want to sleep in a big bed by myself. Let me have this, okay?"

She nodded silently.

In the middle of the night, the pain woke me up again. She rushed in with a painkiller shot. "Does it hurt? You have to call me! You have to call me, Claire!"

The pain was so bad that I wanted to die. I looked up assisted suicide online. But I found out I couldn't even afford to die.

Swiss assisted suicide costs about seven hundred thousand.

I gave up on that idea.

One night, I got a call from an unknown number. I recognized Julian's voice immediately. I hung up quickly.

He sent me a text: "You need to come in person for the asset division." I wanted to tell him to leave me alone.

But then I thought about assisted suicide. The pain was so bad that I could barely type. But the agony 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 time, 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 conscious, feeling the pain.

Suddenly, I saw that the sky was getting light. I felt a surge of energy. I changed my clothes.