Chapter 4: You’ll Regret This

Suddenly, Maisie's phone rang. As she took it out, I caught a glimpse of Dash's name on the screen from the corner of my eye.

She released me, got off the bed, and looked down at me.

"Tristan, if you beg me to stay, I won't leave."

I let out a short laugh. "I'm begging you to leave as soon as possible. Every second you stay here makes me sick."

Maisie clenched her jaw in fury. "You'll regret this."

When she answered the call, Dash's voice came through the speaker. "I'm so sorry, Maisie. I probably shouldn't have called, but I can't stop thinking about what happened today."

Maisie's expression immediately softened. "Are you hurt?"

"It's nothing. I'm just worried that Tristan will hurt you again because of me."

I almost laughed. Dash had provoked me first, yet somehow he had managed to turn himself into the victim.

Maisie glanced at me before answering quietly, "Don't worry. I'll handle everything."

"Maisie, are you coming back tonight?" Dash asked.

There was a brief silence.

Then Maisie said, "Yes. Wait for me."

Those four words were enough to erase the last trace of hesitation I had about her.

She ended the call and picked up her coat.

"I'm leaving."

"Good."

She stopped at the doorway and looked back at me. Her eyes were filled with anger and something I couldn't identify.

"One day, Tristan, you'll realize that I'm the only person who has ever stayed beside you."

I looked at her pale face and smiled bitterly. "You stayed because you wanted to prove that I would never leave you, not because you loved me."

Her lips trembled.

For a moment, I thought she might say something that would change my mind.

Instead, she turned around and slammed the door behind her.

The house became silent again.

I sat alone on the edge of the bed and pressed a hand against my abdomen as another wave of pain spread through me.

I had spent years believing that if I loved Maisie enough, she would eventually understand what I needed from her.

But I finally understood the truth.

She knew.

She simply didn't care enough to choose me.

I opened the drawer beside my bed and pulled out an old envelope.

Inside were photographs from our college days, our marriage certificate, and a small note Maisie had written when we were twenty-two.

"No matter what happens, we'll grow old together."

I stared at those words for a long time before folding the note back into the envelope.

Tomorrow morning, I would make arrangements to leave.

I didn't know how much time I had left, but I knew I didn't want to spend what remained begging my wife to love me.

I picked up my phone and called Dr. Carson.

"Doctor, I changed my mind."

There was silence on the other end.

"I want the treatment."

Dr. Carson exhaled slowly. "Tristan, the drug is expensive, and you told me you couldn't afford it."

"I'll find the money."

I looked at the wedding photograph sitting on my desk.

"I'm not ready to die yet."

For the first time in months, something inside me stirred that had nothing to do with Maisie.

It was the desire to survive.

Not for her.

Not for our marriage.

For myself.

The next morning, I withdrew the money I had saved over the years and began looking for another way to pay for my treatment.

I knew it wouldn't be easy.

But if Maisie could choose another man while I was still alive, then I could choose myself before I was gone.

And if she truly believed I would regret walking away from her, I would let time prove which one of us had made the bigger mistake.