Donating My Marrow to My Husband's Mistress
Joy Brown · Completed · 6.0k Words
Introduction
I scoffed and typed back, "What a piece of shit."
Right after I hit send, my husband came home. He grasped my hand, his voice shaky: "You have leukemia... but it's okay, we found a donor."
His right eye twitched—he always did that when he lied.
Then I remembered the worst comment on that post, "Trick your wife into thinking she's the patient."
Life imitating the internet, apparently.
He wanted to harvest my bone marrow for someone else.
When I finally saw his mistress's face, my world fell apart.
I never thought his mistress would be her......
Chapter 1
Yvette's POV
I stumbled across a post.
Reddit's relationship advice forum, with a title that cut like a bleeding wound: "URGENT! How do I convince my wife to donate bone marrow to my mistress?"
The poster was some scrambled username, but the content read like a love letter. He said his "muse" had acute leukemia, and his wife's bone marrow happened to be a perfect match. He said this girl was his source of inspiration, and without her, his life would wither completely.
The comment section exploded.
"This is murder."
"Your wife should divorce you immediately and sue."
"How can someone be this shameless?"
But scrolling down, there were actually seven or eight comments seriously offering advice.
An account called "AlphaMale_007" had replied, "Tell your wife she's the one with leukemia. Make her think she's the one receiving the donation."
My fingers went cold as I typed my reply, "This man belongs in hell. His wife should call the police, not donate bone marrow."
The moment I hit send, I heard keys turning in the front door.
Edward was home.
He walked in carrying a manila folder, his white dress shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. That face that had made me fall in love at first sight now carried a gravity I'd never seen before.
"Yvette." He approached me and dropped to one knee on the carpet, taking my hands in his. "The test results came back."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Acute leukemia." His voice trembled as he spoke those words. "You need an immediate bone marrow transplant."
I opened my mouth but no sound came out.
"But don't be afraid." Edward gripped my hands tighter, his knuckles turning white. "I've already found a perfect match. The donor agreed. Surgery is scheduled for three days from now."
Three days? That fast?
"Who's the donor?" I asked.
Edward avoided my eyes. He stood and walked to the liquor cabinet.
"A 27-year-old woman." He spoke with his back to me. "She said she's willing to help."
I took the wine glass he handed me, that Reddit post multiplying like a virus in my mind. Mistress. Bone marrow match.
All the pieces fit together perfectly.
"Why would she help me?" I studied Edward's eyes. "A stranger—why would a stranger donate bone marrow to another stranger?"
Edward sat beside me, his hand cupping my cheek. "She said her mother died of leukemia." His voice was gentle as poetry. "She doesn't want to see anyone else go through the same pain."
Lies.
The past seven years flashed through my mind like a fast-forwarded movie. Edward Stone, New York's most celebrated young architect, had reserved the entire top floor of the Empire State Building to propose to me. At my father's funeral, he'd held my hand and said, "I'll love you in your father's place for the rest of my life." Last year when I was hospitalized for surgery, he stayed awake for three days and nights until he collapsed outside my room.
How could a man like that cheat?
I remembered that most vicious comment from Reddit: "Tell your wife she's the one with leukemia. Make her think she's the one receiving the donation."
Art really did imitate life.
"Can I meet her?" I set down my wine glass. "After all, she's saving my life."
Edward's expression froze for an instant.
"She needs to rest before the surgery." He smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes. "Once it's over, I'll definitely arrange for you two to meet."
When he lied, his right eyelashes would flutter slightly.
Only I knew that secret.
"Okay," I said. "I'll listen to you."
Edward visibly relaxed. He pulled me into his arms.
"You're going to be fine, Yvette." He whispered in my ear. "I promise."
I leaned against Edward's chest and closed my eyes.
He was the poster.
He wanted my bone marrow to save his mistress.
Who was she?
Edward's phone buzzed in his pocket. He released me, glanced at the screen, and his face changed slightly.
"Emergency meeting at the office." He kissed my cheek hurriedly. "Get some more sleep. I'll be back tonight to stay with you."
The door closed.
I sat in the growing morning light, my finger swiping open my phone screen. The Reddit page was still open. Below my "send him to hell" comment, there was a new reply.
From the poster's scrambled ID, "Thanks for the advice. But you've never experienced real love. You wouldn't understand."
I stared at those words until the screen went dark.
In the mirror, my face was white.
I remembered our wedding day, when Edward had told me, "I could lose the whole world, but I could never leave you."
I was curious.
What kind of woman could make someone like Edward—someone who treated loyalty like a religion—betray everything he believed in?
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