Three years of pain, seven years of itch

My seventh anniversary with Jason was spent staring at a drawer full of his photos with another woman. I stood in a cemetery, negotiating my divorce terms over the phone D money in exchange for my signature. He remained cold, insisting on the divorce first. On the day we finalized it, he called me difficult and unworthy of love. I retorted that he should stay far away from me in life and death, lest he taint my reincarnation. But none of it mattered anymore. I wasn't going to live much longer

...

After selecting a suitable plot, I paid and immediately called Jason. "When's the money coming through? I need it urgently."

"When the divorce is final," he replied. Seven years of marriage, and we'd been talking about divorce for almost three.

"The money comes through," I took a deep breath, feigning composure, "then I sign the papers."

"Hah," he scoffed, his usual sarcastic tone. Nothing new. I pulled this stunt every holiday season, just to have him around. Pathetic, really.

I waited three hours at the cemetery office, but my account remained empty. I ended up using my medical funds. The next day, I had another bleeding episode that lasted half the day. I knew if I didn't get more money soon, my time would be up even sooner. Getting Jason to show up wasn't hard; I just had to hit where it hurt.

"Ding! Thirty-sixth floor," I announced, stepping out of the elevator and bumping into a woman in a tight skirt.

"Mrs. Walker," she sneered, barely acknowledging my presence.

I never had any patience for Jason's mistresses. "Two choices," I said coldly. "Either Jason comes to see me, or you're fired tomorrow. Don't think I'm joking. I still have that much power in the company."

Her face paled. "Just you wait! Jason won't let you get away with this!"

Jason? That familiar endearment. It was what I used to call him. How sickening.

A sharp pain stabbed through me. I gritted my teeth and turned away. Jason, worried about his precious Anya, would have to come see me tonight.

He stormed in during afternoon tea, furious. He flung my freshly brewed Earl Grey across the room; the scalding liquid splashed my leg, leaving a red mark.

"You've gotten bold, harassing Anya at the office."

I calmly dabbed the tea from my leg with a napkin. "It's not the first time. What's the big deal?"

His anger burned me. He knew exactly where to strike. "Anya is sweet and understanding. You'll never be. Its no wonder everyones abandoned you.

Keep it up and you'll die alone with no one to bury you!

Slap! His hand stung my cheek.

He wasn't wrong. I was dying. Maybe no one would bury me. But I had a plot; I'd pay someone to put me in the ground.

"Don't worry," I said with a chilling smile. "If I die, I'll come back to haunt you. You'll never have another peaceful day."

After years of fighting, it felt pointless. Probably because I was dying.

I tossed the printed divorce agreement at him. "Stop pretending. Sign it. Let's go to City Hall."

"And if I do die," I added, "don't show up at my funeral. I don't want you polluting my path to the afterlife."

Jason, slapped and enraged, finally showed a flicker of surprise at the sight of the divorce papers.

"What's your game?" he asked, tossing them on the table, suspecting a trick.

I rolled my eyes. "Can't you read? I'm signing over all my shares. I'm walking away with nothing."

Perhaps my easy compliance made him even more suspicious. The shares were a pre-marital gift, his version of a dowry, since I had no family. Everything else was considered his contribution. Now, facing death and divorce, it all felt like chains. After all this suffering, I wanted to die free.

He signed without hesitation. "I'll transfer the money later. Then we're done. For good. I hope you can stick to that."

I remembered. That money. It was for the plot, now repurposed for my treatment.

"Fine. For good." I feigned relief, pretending to be eager to separate.

I signed and capped my pen. "See you tomorrow at City Hall. Don't make me wait."

My unusual calmness unnerved him. He scrutinized me. "That should be my line."

As he walked out, I slammed the door, wishing it would flatten him. "Jason, you idiot," I muttered.

The next morning, Jason's driver arrived, not Jason himself. He handed me a velvet box. "Mrs. Walker," he said respectfully, "Mr. Walker sends his apologies. He has pressing business and asked me to give you this."

Inside lay our wedding ring. Wed separated in our fifth year. I moved out of our house, Anya moved in. A month later, news of her pregnancy reached me. Jason had visited once, trying to smooth things over. I couldn't recall the specifics, only him saying, "Sarah, I need to give Anya a name. Let's end this amicably." I bit my lip, tasting blood, fighting back tears as I slapped him. Jason, Id screamed internally, you want to give her a name? Do you remember when you were 20, promising me a happy home?

I took the box. "I'm not your 'Mrs.' anymore. And tell him to hurry up with Anya and their drama. I don't have time to waste."

My time was running out.

Jason, busy at the hospital with Anya, texted that he'd be free in two weeks. I didn't reply, just boarded a bus back to Springfield. Nothing kept me in River City anymore. The person I loved was in Springfield.

I took a cab to the orphanage, my childhood home. Breathing the air there felt strangely comforting. "I'm home," I whispered. I was an orphan, raised in this very place. Jason was right; Id die with no one to claim me. No parents, no family.

I pushed open the rusty gate, the scent of honeysuckle washing over me. I looked up at the old tree, larger than it was years ago. My teenage sweetheart used to climb it to see me.

A familiar, kind voice broke my reverie. "Sarah?"

I turned, tears welling up. "Mrs. Davies! It's been so long."

"It has, child," she said, clearly excited. Shed been kindest to me growing up, protecting me from bullies, sneaking me extra food. I was just talking about you with Chloe the other day."

Chloe Benson. My childhood best friend, until we fell for the same boy. How ridiculous.

"Just wanted to visit," I forced a smile, hoping she wouldn't see the sadness in my eyes. "How are things?"

Good, all good. She studied me, reaching out to pat my head. Youve lost so much weight. Hows that young man of yours?

She meant Jason. Shed attended our wedding, witnessed our seemingly perfect love, the showering of blessings. Hed been the most dazzling boy, sneaking away from his family to visit me, reaching down from that tree with a bright, sunny smile. Sarah, lets go watch the sunset.

I stared at the spot, lost in memory. Hes busy, I blinked. Couldnt come with me.

She seemed to believe me, urging me to take care. I felt another pang of sadness and made an excuse to leave. But before stepping out, I looked back, as if seeing a younger me, frowning beneath the tree. Jason, youre late again! Ive been waiting forever.

My vision blurred. I turned and smiled. Jason, Im not waiting anymore.

A week later, Jason texted, curtly summoning me to City Hall.

As I hailed a cab, I saw a woman approaching from across the street. Great, I thought, rubbing my temples.

Ms. Miller. Anya looked radiant, a stark contrast to my dying self. I hear you and Jason are divorcing today.

I crossed my arms, impatient. What? Like last time, youll marry him the second Im gone?

She smiled, mockingly. No, Im not like you. Jason loves me. Marriage is a given. But as a fellow woman, I pity you. You clung to him for so many years, and he still ended up in my bed."

By the way, I've been curious, Anya leaned closer, her perfume making me nauseous. Seven years married, no kids. Are you infertile, or did Jason just not bother touching you? I got pregnant in a month."

Fury coursed through me. I slapped her. Say another word, and youll get another one.

After our marriage, Jason had been doting. He wouldnt let me cook, or even walk too far. Hed carry me from room to room. Then he started disappearing, staying out all night. At first, Id look for him. Then Anyas photos started arriving, filling my drawer. I finally understood. It was over. Even though I loved him deeply.

Sarah Before she could finish, I slapped her again, harder this time, knocking her to the ground. The emotional surge, the force, brought up the metallic taste of blood. Then I heard Jasons furious voice. Sarah!

Get lost, I clutched my chest, refusing to show weakness. Say another word and Ill hit you too.

Staring into his angry eyes, I said, Lets just get this divorce over with. Being near you two makes me sick, literally.

Compared to my pain, those slaps were nothing.

Sarah, dont force a fight now, Jason snarled, grabbing my throat, raising his hand as if to return Anyas slaps.

Then he saw the blood trickling from my lips. Damn it, I cursed internally. I couldnt hold it back.

"You're bleeding," he said, his eyes widening, hand dropping.

I shoved him away, steadying my breath. Stress. Im dying. Happy now?

As he stepped toward me, I clenched my fists, ready to punch him. Dont you dare play the concerned husband. Divorce or get out! It wasnt that I didn't want to hit him, I simply lacked the strength.

The drive to City Hall was silent. Divorce was quicker than marriage. Ten minutes later, we were strangers. Jason pocketed his certificate; I tossed mine in the trash.

Sarah, if you werent so difficult, so unlovable, we wouldn't be here, he said.

Shut up, I gritted out. Go marry your Anya. Stay out of my life, in sickness and in health, and especially in death."

He scoffed and got in his car. Anya gave me a triumphant smile through the window.

Crazy, I muttered.

I stared at the discarded certificate. I hated him, yet couldnt move. Difficult. Unlovable.

Jason, I should have suggested a brain scan. He always forgot what he said. Hed confessed with a bouquet of lisianthus, shyly asking, Sarah, will you be my girlfriend? Ill spoil you rotten, cherish you forever. Id treasured those words, only for him to forget them. Or perhaps they were never sincere. Like our vows. Till death do us part.

Jason, youre the biggest liar in the world.

Back in Springfield, I saw a specialist at a private clinic.

Ms. Miller, youve missed the optimal treatment window. You likely have only a few months left, the doctor said, delivering my death sentence.

I wasn't devastated, just weary. I see.

Seeing a young woman alone with such a dire prognosis, he asked gently, Where is your family?

I stared at the white walls, remembering the day I left the orphanage. Jason held my hand. Sarah, youre not alone anymore. Ill give you a home.

I shook my head, smiling faintly. I dont have any family.

After checking in, I tucked away the diagnosis and went to buy toiletries. I ran into someone I knew at the store entrance.

"Sarah?" I looked up. It was Chloe.

"Chloe, it's been ages."

Almost ten years. Wed promised to be each other's bridesmaids. Another broken promise.

Perhaps with age came less animosity. We chatted at a nearby tea shop.

"Why are you at the hospital alone? Where is he?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Jason? We're divorced. Hes probably remarrying soon.

She looked stunned. Wed been so in love. Divorce seemed impossible.

I looked out the window, sipping my taro milk tea. "The taste has changed. Its not as sweet."

"Are you unwell?" she asked.

"Not yet. But I'm dying." It sounded like a bad joke.

The next second, I heard soft sobs. "Sarah, how could you? Leaving without telling me, getting married without me"

I listened to her vent, then handed her a tissue. "Death is something I can't control."

Finally, I relented. "But Chloe, youre my only friend. I'll leave it to you to bury me."

Her sobs intensified.

I spent a few days in the hospital. Then Jason texted. Where did you get that handbag? Anya loves it and wants one too.

I almost swore at him. I just replied: Get lost.

He started typing. I smirked and blocked him.

Chloe brought in fruit. "He doesn't know you're sick?"

I tossed my phone aside and bit into an apple. "He doesn't deserve to know." I didn't need his pity.

I thought that was the end of it. Jason, with his pride, wouldn't bother me again. But that night, I got a call from an unknown number.