Chapter 2
Claire's POV
October air in Boston carried autumn's chill as I stood outside Thinking Cup café, a tearing pain shooting through my chest.
Three months ago, when the doctor spoke those words, my world collapsed.
"Mrs. Smith, I'm sorry, but the test results show metastatic cancer. It has spread to your lungs and liver. We estimate... six months, maybe less."
I remembered that moment when Kelvin was in his office preparing for IPO roadshows, passionately presenting ten years of his life's work to investors. I stared at the photo he'd sent—him standing on stage, eyes sparkling with success's glow. It was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.
How could I tell him? How could I destroy everything at the most crucial moment of his career?
The investors had made it clear: the CEO couldn't have ANY negative influences. A wife with cancer would distract Kelvin, make investors question his focus, and destroy the entire IPO.
More importantly, I didn't want him staying out of pity. I wanted him to remember the healthy, beautiful Claire, not the dying, ugly woman.
So I chose to leave. In the most CRUEL way possible.
"This is where you two met?" Kate Morrison adjusted her camera angle beside me.
"Yes." My voice was dry. "Eight years ago, this autumn."
Just as I finished speaking, my phone exploded with ringing. Seeing "Lisa" on the screen, my heart lurched.
My best friend. My maid of honor.
"Claire!" Lisa's furious voice burst through the speaker. "I never thought you were this kind of person!"
"Lisa, I—"
"Don't explain to me! I've seen the photos online!" Her voice was shrill. "You and that doctor kissing! The whole internet is trashing you!"
My blood instantly froze. Photos?
"Do you know what Kelvin's like right now?" Lisa roared. "He didn't even go to the office yesterday! Sarah says he just sat there, staring at your wedding photo!"
My heart felt like someone had smashed it with a hammer.
Kelvin was suffering. I imagined him sitting alone in his office, looking at our wedding photo, the light in his eyes slowly dying.
"I... I have my reasons."
"What reason could make you betray a man who loves you deeply?!" Lisa screamed. "We've known each other for TEN YEARS, Claire! Ten years! I thought I knew you!"
"Lisa, I—"
"You've disappointed me SO MUCH!" She hung up, leaving harsh dial tones ringing in my ear.
My hand holding the phone trembled as Kate watched me with concern. "What happened?"
"Nothing." I forced a smile. "Just some... misunderstanding between friends."
My phone began buzzing frantically:
"Claire, have you lost your mind? —Amy"
"Never thought you were this type of person. —Sarah"
"You ruined a good man's life. —Michelle"
Each message was a knife, cutting another wound in my already shattered heart.
I had become everyone's target.
"Let's go inside and sit." Kate sensed my distress.
I nodded, pushing open the café door. Familiar coffee aromas hit me—cinnamon and roasted scents that once brought warmth but now made me want to flee.
Just as we sat down, a young girl suddenly approached, pointing her phone at my face.
"Are you Claire Smith? The cheating woman?"
My face instantly flushed red as surrounding customers turned to stare. Their gazes were countless knives—curious, contemptuous, accusatory.
"Please don't do this." Kate stood up, positioning herself between me and the girl. "Give her some privacy."
"Privacy?" The girl sneered. "Where was privacy when you were cheating? Poor Kelvin, deceived by this kind of woman for so many years!"
I couldn't take it anymore. I stood and rushed out of the café.
Boston's cold wind cut like blades across my face. Tears streamed down, and I couldn't tell if it was from cold or heartbreak.
That afternoon, we walked the Freedom Trail—a path Kelvin and I had walked hand-in-hand countless times.
But after barely thirty minutes, familiar nausea hit like a tide. Chemo side effects always appeared at the worst moments.
"I need to rest." I leaned against an oak tree, fighting the urge to vomit.
"You look very pale." Kate watched me with concern.
Suddenly, I couldn't control it anymore. I turned toward a trash can and violently threw up.
Bile and coffee mixed as they poured out, bitter taste filling my mouth. My stomach cramped, each contraction like someone squeezing with their fist.
"My God, Claire! We need to find a hospital!" Kate rushed over.
"NO!" I quickly stopped her. "It's just divorce stress. I have medication."
I trembling pulled out anti-nausea pills, quickly hiding the "Chemotherapy Anti-Nausea" label.
"Anxiety medication," I lied. "Doctor prescribed."
Kate looked skeptical but didn't press.
Even my body was betraying me, but at least Kelvin didn't have to see this ugly sight.
That evening, we returned to the hotel. Kate went downstairs to work on her blog post while I finally had time alone.
Standing before the bathroom mirror, I slowly removed my carefully chosen wig. The woman in the mirror was haggard—sparse hair, sunken cheeks, hollow eyes. Chemo had stolen all my hair and former beauty.
This was the real me. This ugly, dying woman.
I extended trembling hands, touching my smooth scalp, tears flowing uncontrollably.
Then came a knock at the door.
"Claire, it's me." A familiar male voice came from outside.
My heart nearly stopped. It was Mark Thompson.
I quickly put on my wig, wiped away tears, and opened the door. Mark stood in the hallway, his face filled with guilt and pain.
"How are you here?" I asked in surprise.
"I've been monitoring social media." Mark's voice was heavy. "Claire, I can't continue like this. Seeing those people attacking you, seeing you endure all this..."
His voice choked. As my college classmate who'd secretly loved me for years, when he accidentally encountered me in the hospital corridor holding chemo paperwork with desperate eyes, when I tearfully begged him to help stage that "affair," he agreed.
Now, he clearly regretted it.
"Come in."
Mark entered the room. "Claire, is this really right? Letting the whole world think you're a betrayer?"
"This is the only way Kelvin can completely let go. I can't let him stay with me out of sympathy."
"But you're suffering so much!" Mark said emotionally. "Friends have abandoned you, those vicious online comments..."
"So what?" My voice suddenly sharpened. "I'm dying anyway! Six months, Mark, only six months! Let him hate me for six months rather than suffer for a lifetime!"
Mark was shocked, his face pale.
"You don't understand," I said through tears. "I love him, and BECAUSE I love him, I have to leave. His IPO is a ten-year dream. I can't let my illness drag him down or make investors question him because of my condition."
"But Kelvin has the right to know the truth," Mark said softly. "He loves you. True love means sharing pain together."
"No." I shook my head, tears blurring my vision. "This is MY decision. I'd rather he hate me than pity me. I want him to remember the healthy, beautiful Claire, not this dying woman."
Mark looked at me deeply, tears in his eyes. He came over and gently hugged me.
"I respect your decision, Claire."
After he left, I sat before the mirror again, looking at the pale, haggard woman reflected back.
The outside world condemned me, friends had betrayed me, and my body weakened daily.
But this was the path I chose. For love, I would endure it all.
I picked up my phone and saw financial news: "TechNova stock up 15% today, CEO Kelvin Smith performing excellently, IPO progressing smoothly."
That was enough. He was succeeding, moving forward.
