Too Late for His 'I'm Sorry'

The diagnosis paper trembled slightly in my hands, the letters dancing and blurring before my eyes.

"Stage 4 Gastric Adenocarcinoma"—I read these words over and over, as if repeating them might somehow change their meaning. The doctor's gentle voice echoed in my ears, but I couldn't process anything he was saying. Only one thought kept repeating in my mind: I need to tell Ethan. He'll know what to do.

"Mrs. Moore, do you have any questions?" the doctor asked, his face etched with concern.

I shook my head, clutching the thin paper tightly. For twenty-two years, there hadn't been a single problem Ethan couldn't solve. He was always so strong, so reliable. Now I needed him more than ever.

As I stepped out of the hospital, the Los Angeles sunshine stung my eyes. I hurried toward the parking lot, already dialing Ethan's number. The phone rang for what felt like forever before his voicemail picked up.

"Hi, Ethan, I just left the hospital and have something important to tell you. I'm heading to the studio now." I tried to keep my voice steady, but the tremor betrayed my panic.

As I started the car, I suddenly remembered the first time we met.

It was at Grace Haven Orphanage. I was only five, too small and skinny, always bullied by the other kids. One day, a boy named Tommy stole my only toy rabbit, and I cried my heart out. That's when a boy two years older than me walked over.

"Give her back the bunny," Ethan's voice was childish but remarkably firm.

"What's it to you?" Tommy sneered.

Without another word, Ethan lunged at Tommy. Though not particularly strong himself, his determination to protect me made him fearless. Eventually, Tommy ran away crying, and Ethan carefully handed me back my stuffed rabbit.

"Don't worry, Lily-pad. I'll always protect you," he said gently, his small hand wiping away the tears on my face.

From that day on, Ethan became my protector, my entire world.

Stopping at a red light, another memory washed over me—that snowy night when we were seventeen, about to graduate from the orphanage, uncertain about our future. Ethan took me to the old oak tree in the yard, snowflakes falling softly on our shoulders.

"Lily," he held my cold hands, his eyes more serious than I'd ever seen them, "I know we're young, I know the world out there is scary, but..." He took a deep breath. "I'll never let you cry a single tear, Lily. You don't have to be strong anymore, just lean on me."

In that moment, it felt like the snowflakes paused mid-air, the whole world falling silent.

"You're my everything, my reason to become better," he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "Lily, will you marry me? Not now, but when we're ready. When I can give you a real home."

I cried, but they were tears of joy. We embraced in the snow, promising each other forever.

The car stereo was playing the lead single from Ethan's latest album, his deep, magnetic voice sending warmth through my heart. Twenty-two years had passed, and he had kept his promise. He'd given me a home, love, the whole world.

Now, when I needed him most, I knew he would hold me like before and tell me everything would be okay.

Beverly Hills Private Recording Studio appeared before me. I used my spare key to enter the building. As the elevator slowly ascended, I rehearsed in my mind how to break the news to him. Maybe I should hug him first, then slowly tell him.

The elevator doors opened, and I heard familiar music—the new song Ethan was recording with Victoria. I knew they were working hard on the new album, and I shouldn't interrupt, but this was too important.

The hallway was quiet except for the music coming from the studio and some... strange sounds. I softened my footsteps, not wanting to disrupt their workflow.

But as I approached the studio door, those "strange sounds" became clearer—they were... moans?

My heart began to race, a terrible premonition washing over me. I slowly pushed the door open, and what I saw through the crack shattered my world in an instant.

On the couch, Ethan was on top of Victoria, the two of them passionately entangled, completely lost in each other. Their clothes were scattered on the floor, Victoria's hands tightly gripping Ethan's hair as she made sounds I'd never heard before.

The diagnosis paper slipped from my hand, making a soft noise in the quiet air.

"Ethan..." My voice was as faint as a whisper, but in this enclosed space, it sounded painfully sharp.

The two immediately separated. Victoria deliberately took her time adjusting her clothes, a smug smile on her face.

"Oh, who's this? Your... cleaning lady?" she looked at me provocatively, her tone dripping with mockery.

Ethan scrambled to his feet, flushed with embarrassment as he fumbled with his clothes. "Lily, I can explain..."

"EXPLAIN?" My voice suddenly exploded, all the shock and anger bursting forth at once. "You promised me forever! You said you'd never hurt me!"

I rushed forward and slapped him hard across the face without hesitation. The sound echoed in the studio, just like the sound of my heart breaking.

"Twenty-two years, Ethan. Twenty-two fucking years!"

I had never sworn before, but in this moment, all my composure and restraint went out the window.

Where was the boy who made promises to me on that snowy night? Where was the Ethan who said he would protect me forever?

Ethan touched his reddened cheek, his gaze falling to the hospital documents scattered on the floor. He glanced at them, but only casually, clearly not realizing what those papers meant.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow. You shouldn't have come here uninvited." His voice was cold as ice as he continued adjusting his clothes, as if what had just happened was merely a minor interruption.

"Uninvited?" I couldn't believe my ears. "You are MY husband! We're MARRIED!"

But Ethan wouldn't even look me in the eye. He avoided my burning gaze, his tone carrying a distance I'd never heard before: "Just go home, Lily. I'll handle everything. We'll talk tomorrow."

Handle everything? Like handling a problem? Handle our twenty-two years together?

I looked at the diagnosis paper on the floor, the writing blurring through my tears. I had come seeking comfort, to tell him I might be dying, to find the person who once promised to protect me forever.

But all I found was a stranger.

The man I married, the boy who saved me, was gone. And I was alone with my death sentence.