Chapter 8

Love is nothingness, but life must go on.

I actively cooperated with the examinations, the determination of plans, and recuperation.

Seeing Alexander Vance choose the best for surgery medication, hospital room, and subsequent treatment.

I felt a trace of bitter comfort.

There was no love left, but this marriage, once filled with mutual support, could still have a conscience.

Yet I was wrong again.

A man without love has little conscience left.

The day before the surgery and hospitalization, my in-laws came for dinner.

I pretended nothing was amiss, smiling and welcoming them.

Alexander Vance didn’t tell them about my illness, only saying I was going on a business trip for half a month starting tomorrow.

“They tend to overthink, and the doctor said your illness is easily treatable, so let’s not add unnecessary worries.”

During dinner, my father-in-law announced he had bought a large riverside apartment.

I didn’t want to know how he could afford such an expensive property.

I only felt discomfort in my stomach, so much so that I couldn’t pick up my chopsticks.

Yet they ate happily.

I could only sit on the balcony to get some air.

The sky was like ink.

Neon lights gradually rose from the high buildings, and inside, there was laughter and joy.

The world is so magical.

Under the same roof, I was separated from them by a thousand mountains and ten thousand rivers.

They were joyful, while I was in agony.

Heaven always likes to strike people down.

At this moment, Alexander Vance’s phone lay unlocked on the balcony.

[I’ll cover the majority of the cost for that apartment, just put your and Dad’s names on it to avoid future large-scale property disputes with Eleanor Vance and her parents.]

Another message showed the stocks and annual salary the company granted him this year.

So much, far exceeding three times what I knew.

Early June summer, like falling into an ice cellar.

My whole body felt cold, colder and colder, until I started trembling all over.

The Alexander Vance who once risked everything, could clearly isolate assets after I was diagnosed with early-stage cancer.

Afraid of being divided by his wife, and afraid that if his wife died, her parents would divide it.

Ha, so, he was willing to give me the best treatment not out of conscience, but because of a guilty conscience.

Is love merely an illusion?

It’s downright ridiculous.

Every laugh they made inside cut into my heart like a knife.

My abdomen was full.

Full of blood, dripping, scalding, churning.

“Love” made him chew me up.

City neon flickered, dazzling to the extreme.

The so-called happy and perfect marriage was ultimately an illusion.

My feet stood firmly on the ground.

Yet my whole being was falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling into the mud.

But it’s okay.

I, Eleanor Vance, died, but I can live again.