Chapter 1

The year we were supposed to get married, I broke up with her.

Years later, she became rich and powerful. She used every dirty trick in the book to force me into marriage.

Everyone said we were a match made in heaven, a love story written in the stars.

But they didn't see what happened behind closed doors. She brought a different man home every other night just to spite me.

I never reacted. I acted like I was invisible.

While she was making noise with those men, I stayed in my room. I was silently counting down the days I had left to live.

1.

In the second year of my marriage to Sia, she started keeping a young intern from her company.

His name was Keegan. He wore those trendy half-rim glasses and always had the most stylish hair.

He was exactly Sia's type. Aside from me, he was the man who had stayed by her side the longest.

My friends told me that Keegan looked a lot like I did when I first started working.

They said that was why Sia felt something for him. They thought she might actually be falling in love this time.

The first time I met Keegan was the day my condition took a turn for the worse.

I had just come back from a follow-up appointment at the hospital.

The doctor's face was twisted in a grimace. He told me the cancer was spreading faster than expected.

He gave me two choices: chemotherapy or a high-end experimental drug.

To me, chemo was just a slow way to die in a cage.

But the experimental drug was incredibly expensive.

I had money in my bank account. It was the savings I had scraped together by working two jobs every day.

However, I couldn't touch that money. It was for something far more important.

So, I went to Sia's office, hoping to borrow the funds from her.

Before I even reached her door, I ran into Keegan.

He was undeniably handsome, wearing a designer bomber jacket and limited-edition sneakers.

He practically radiated youth and health. Everything I no longer had.

I recognized him instantly because I had seen him on Sia's lock screen.

She had purposely left her phone face up in front of me a few days ago. She asked, "Is he hot? He's my new boyfriend."

I had stared at the photo for a long time before nodding. I told her he looked good.

She got furious. She demanded to know why I wasn't jealous.

I didn't say a word. I just laughed at myself in my head. Why would a dying man waste his breath being jealous?