Chapter 4

Kewell turned and pushed Paul's supporting hand away. She limped over and spread her arms in front of me:

"What's wrong with you, Paul? Why are you yelling at Joel?!"

I saw her slightly trembling arms and that one ear that could no longer hear.

I suddenly remembered countless times in the past when she had stood in front of me like that.

When a dog chased me in elementary school, Kewell spread her arms to shield me.

In middle school, when the school bully forced me to be her girlfriend, Kewell stood in front of me.

And during the incident with Richard, it was her who stood in front of me.

My nose suddenly stung, and I tried to suppress the injustice I felt. "I'm sorry, I won't make a fuss anymore."

Hearing my words, Paul's body trembled.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something.

But I pulled Kewell and turned upstairs, playfully toying with her hand.

I began preparing their fourth wedding gift.

I asked casually, as if it didn't matter, "Is your ring finger still size twelve?"

"Mm-hmm," Kewell replied distractedly.

Then she smiled and asked, "Are you getting me a gift?"

"Yes, and you'll love it."

"How do you know what I want?"

I looked at her gently. "Then tell me, what do you want?"

Kewell gently flicked my nose. "I want you to be healthy and live a long, happy life."

I smiled and said, "Okay."

But deep down, I sighed. I'm sorry, Kewell, that's one wish I can't fulfill.

I returned my wedding ring and exchanged it for Kewell's favorite brand.

The woman's ring, a size twelve, felt unusually loose on my hand.

It was then I realized that the illness had wasted me away to skin and bones, yet Kewell and Paul hadn't noticed.

In the past, if I lost even a pound, they'd get furious and blame each other for not taking good care of me.

Now my cheeks were hollow, my wrists alarmingly thin, and neither of them had noticed.

I placed the ring in its original box so they could use it directly on their wedding day.

After doing all this, I found I didn't even have the strength to lift my wrist.

I took a deep breath, feeling as if the pain in my stomach would kill me instantly.

I forced myself to the garden, wanting to see the white rose bush my mother left me.

I'd already left this house to Kewell. I thought that if they lived in the marital home permanently, and if they weren't too bothered by the morbid thought, I hoped my ashes could be buried under this white rose bush.

Like I was returning to my mother's embrace.

But the scene in the rose bush made my eyes burn, the pain making it almost impossible to breathe.

The entire white rose garden had been carelessly torn up and trampled.

I screamed at the people, "What are you doing?!"

The gardener, confused, replied, "Mr. Paul asked us to change them. He said he was getting married soon, and he didn't like white roses; he wanted champagne-colored ones instead."

My body swayed precariously, and a mix of injustice and a flicker of unexpected hatred crept into my heart.

Even if he didn't love me anymore, he could have told me.

Why did he have to destroy the only keepsake my mother left me?

I stopped everyone, telling them to restore the rose bush to its original state.

My eyes burning, I ran to the study; I needed to talk to Paul clearly.

I needed to tell him everything. I was dying soon; he shouldn't bully me anymore.

He and Kewell could be together in peace. I wouldn't blame them; it was just me paying my debts.

I pushed open the study door. He looked up, his eyes bloodshot, clutching several papers tightly in his hands.

I looked closer and realized they were my cancer reports.

"Why didn't you tell me?"