At the lowest point of his life, I ended our relationship.
Over time, he achieved great fame and made numerous attempts to win me back.
To everyone else, I was the one who got away, the woman he most desired.
He finally shattered my heart and turned me into a laughingstock within our social circle, after which he began parading different women into our home each night.
Yet, I neither wept nor protested. I secluded myself in the room, never disturbing his indulgences.
In a moment of desperation, he kissed me fervently and whispered, "Aren't you jealous?"
Little did he know, I was gravely ill.
He retaliated against me daily with a frantic intensity, while I quietly counted down my remaining days.
In the third year of our marriage, Harold Klein welcomed a young and attractive female college student into our home.
Her name was Carissa Castillo, and she radiated innocence and sweetness. Harold was particularly fond of her.
He cared for her for more than six months
Apart from myself, she was the individual with whom Harold maintained the longest consistent relationship. Harold seemed genuinely devoted to Carissa, and my acquaintances warned me to be cautious.
On my birthday, I encountered Carissa for the first time.
That morning, I suffered a nosebleed and went to the hospital for a check-up. The doctor informed me that I likely had only until the next spring to live.
I nodded gently and whispered, "It's all right."
While I do not fear death, I am apprehensive about the pain.
I learned about an expensive medication that could enhance my quality of life.
I went to Harold's office seeking assistance, as my bank account was insufficient.
There, I met Carissa, a recent graduate working as a secretary in the same office.
I waited outside while Harold was in a meeting.
Carissa continued to scrutinize me and whispered to her colleagues, "Is she Harold's wife? She looks so unappealing and emaciated, as if she's on the verge of death. You all say I resemble her, but where? I'm far more attractive."
My reflection in the polished glass, clad in a bulky down jacket, looked worn and lifeless.
Carissa's colleague pulled her aside and whispered, "That's because she didn't dress up. If she wore makeup, you wouldn't hold a candle to her beauty. Also, don't rely on Harold's favouritism to provoke her. You have no idea how deeply he loves her. If you upset her, be cautious—the boss might retaliate."
