Chapter 8

I suppressed my grief, trying to calm myself.

"Nothing. I just wanted to say, since you believe I stole Victoria's boyfriend, why won't you agree to the divorce?"

Hearing me say that, Daniel's frown deepened.

"I told you, I've forgiven you. So—"

"I only want a divorce." I looked at him, repeating, "I *only* want a divorce."

The only thing in my eyes now was disappointment in this marriage.

"Fine, divorce," Daniel said, almost spitting the words. "Sarah, don't you dare regret this."

With that, Daniel slammed the door and left.

I curled up on the sofa, my fingers tracing my abdomen.

That baby had only been there for three months.

I had already picked out a nickname for the baby: "Peace."

I wanted my baby to be peaceful and safe, always.

The baby was so well-behaved, never causing any trouble, and I never had morning sickness.

Even the doctors said it was a good baby who cared for its mother.

And that good baby.

Left me on the coldest winter night.

"It's okay," I murmured. "Baby, wait a little longer. Mom will be with you soon."

The next morning, Daniel and I went to the courthouse.

It was the first time he hadn't stood me up.

Coming out, I felt much lighter.

Thirty-one more days.

It would pass quickly.

Seeing my happiness, Daniel was displeased. He was about to speak when his phone rang.

I glanced at him. "Don't forget to come pick up the divorce papers in thirty-one days."

Then I walked away.

During the waiting period for the divorce, Daniel hardly came home.

Meanwhile, I completed all the remaining tasks on my list.

With twenty-seven days left, I stopped updating my comic.

It was a comic that documented my life with Daniel.

Reality was never as beautiful as the comic.

Now that I was leaving, there was no need to draw these empty things anymore.

I closed my laptop, looked at the sunshine outside, and smiled.

With seventeen days left, I went shopping for summer clothes.

I bought many colors I never used to wear, planning to change into a different one every day on the Caribbean island.

And with only seven days left, I did one last thing.

I packed away every trace of myself in this house.

Afterward, I realized how few traces I had left in this home.

I found our carefully preserved wedding photos.

In the pictures, I smiled brightly, but in the mirror, I was bone-thin.

Daniel never liked me hanging our wedding photos, so I never did.

I threw them all into the trash.

Then I burned my most cherished possessions.

I burned them for my future self, after I was gone.

I knew no one would burn these for me.

I also worried that my grandmother wouldn't have any pocket money after I passed.

So I bought a pile of paper money and burned it for her first.

Watching the flickering flames, I softly said, "Grandma, try to be frugal with this. We'll have to share it down below."

After burning everything, I looked at the large pile of ashes, my mood significantly lighter.

Now, there was nothing holding me back.

Just then, the front door unlocked.

Daniel was back.

He walked into the house, frowning, and waved away the floating ashes.

"Sarah, what are you burning?"

I calmly replied, while tidying the fire basin.

"Burning some paper money for Grandma."

"Don't burn these things in the house again," Daniel said, opening the window.

"Okay, I won't."

It was the last time anyway.

Hearing my voice, Daniel noticed I seemed to be in a relatively good mood.

After a moment of hesitation, Daniel spoke.

"I want Victoria to move in."

I paused, then scoffed. "There are only seven days left until we divorce, Dr. Davies. Can't you even wait that long?"

"There are so many empty rooms in the house; it won't be a problem for her to stay," Daniel continued. "It's close to the hospital, and it'll be convenient for me to go to work."

I didn't look up.

"You've already decided, so why ask me?"

Daniel pressed his lips together, his voice becoming very soft.

"Victoria... she's pregnant."

The basin in my hands clattered to the floor, spilling black ashes everywhere.

I patted my soiled white dress, only to leave several handprints on it.

"Daniel," my voice trembled uncontrollably, "Is it yours?"

He avoided my eyes, his explanations growing weaker with each word.

"That night was a misunderstanding. I never intended for there to be a child."

"The baby is only twenty-six days along, the pregnancy is unstable."

Twenty-six days.

I knew. It had been exactly twenty-six days since I found out I had cancer.