câncer em estágio avançado, minha esposa me tortura loucamente

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My wife firmly believed I had killed her beloved, and to take revenge, she didn’t hesitate to have me sent to the police station on our wedding day. Disheveled and exhausted, I was interrogated all night, only to return home and find that she had placed her lost love’s memorial tablet in our bedroom.

“Get out. Someone like you doesn’t deserve to live in my room!”

“Why wasn’t it you who died instead?”

I could only smile bitterly at her, for she didn’t know that I had just been diagnosed with late-stage cancer—I truly didn’t have much time left.

…

The clock’s hands crept forward. The food on the table had been reheated countless times, yet I still waited for her to come home. This scene had repeated itself for a month now—an entire month in which my wife not only hadn’t come home but couldn’t even be reached by phone.

I remembered the cold words she spoke on our wedding day: “Why wasn’t it you who died?” In that moment, I suddenly realized that perhaps this time, she truly meant to leave me.

After my cancer diagnosis, my body could no longer withstand late nights or alcohol, but with the endless lonely nights stretching ahead, how else could I dull the sorrow of unrequited love?

Suddenly, my long-silent phone rang deafeningly. Startled, I fumbled to look at the screen and saw the name “Qingya.”

My hands trembled uncontrollably as I hurried to answer.

“Qingya, where are you—”

Before I could finish, Su Qingya cut me off.

Her voice, cold and distant through the phone, gave nothing away.