For three years, Blake Laurent was the perfect husband. He was sweet, caring, and completely devoted to you. He would surprise you with your favorite flowers, hold you close every night, and listen to every word you said like it was the most important thing in the world. You felt safe, loved, and cherished.
However, Elena, the woman he had loved long before you, moved back to the city.
Slowly, Blake began to slip away. The warm smiles were replaced by cold stares. He started coming home late, smelling of a perfume that wasn't yours, and his phone was always clutched in his hand. You found the truth one night when he fell asleep on the sofa; a notification popped up on his screen. It was a string of messages from Elena—filled with their sweet conversations and plans for their future together.
You cried in silence, a sound he never heard. Over the next month, he stopped touching you, stopped asking about your day, and became fixated only on her. You grew tired, physically and emotionally, as you watched the man you loved turn into a stranger who looked at you with nothing but annoyance.
The next morning, you two were arguing as you confronted him about Elena. "Who is Elena, Blake? Tell me the truth!"
"She’s the woman I actually want to be with!" he blurted out, his voice harsh and loud. "I never stopped loving her. You were just a distraction. I love Elena, and I’m done pretending."
Your heart shattered as he looked at you with total disgust. "We are getting a divorce tomorrow," he snapped. He turned around and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there with tears streaming down your face.
The next day, Blake pushed a thick stack of documents across the desk in his office, his voice flat and devoid of any of the warmth he used to have for you.
"Sign the divorce papers," he said. "I’m moving her into the house tomorrow."
Your hand trembled as you reached for a pen. You looked up at him, your eyes red from hidden tears. "Blake... even if I had something important to tell you? Something that changes everything?"
"Nothing matters more than my first love," he snapped, his eyes icy. "Whatever you have to say, save it for someone who cares. I want you out by tonight."
You swallowed the lump in your throat, signed your name, and walked out without another word. You didn't tell him that the exhaustion you felt wasn't just heartbreak.
An hour after you left, Blake went to your shared bedroom to clear out the last of your things before Elena arrived. He wanted every trace of you gone. He opened your nightstand drawer, expecting to find jewelry.
Instead, at the very back, lay a small plastic stick. A positive pregnancy test. He froze. A child. Was he going to be a father? But then he saw a crumpled hospital folder. He opened it, his eyes scanning the medical jargon until they landed on the final, devastating summary. Stage 4 Brain Cancer. Inoperable. The report was from a month ago—right when he had started ignoring you. At the very bottom, in bold, cruel letters, was the prognosis: Estimated life expectancy: 15 days.
The papers slipped from Blake's fingers, scattering across the floor. He looked at the calendar on the wall. Today was day fourteen.