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My Wife Lied to Steal My Kidney
NovelShort
Completed
"You gave Callum’s last kidney to Jordan?" her best friend asked, her voice filled with shock. "Then his dad... No wonder he died that day. How could you do that?" Yolanda didn’t even hesitate. "I didn’t have a choice. Callum had two healthy kidneys and he was the perfect match for Jordan." Her friend sounded furious. "But Jordan didn’t even need another transplant! You—" Yolanda cut her off. "I wasn’t going to risk it. I needed to make sure Jordan would be okay. I’d only feel at peace if I gave him both of Callum’s kidneys."
Chapters (6)
第1章
I thought I was doing the right thing when I donated a kidney to my best friend, Jordan Chambers. He needed it and I didn’t think twice.
But before I even had a chance to recover, the hospital hit me with another bombshell; my dad had kidney failure and he needed a transplant immediately.
It felt like a sick joke. But at least there was one bit of good news: we were a match. Without hesitation, I made up my mind. I would give him my last kidney and rely on an artificial one. It wasn’t ideal, but it was worth it if it meant saving him.
Then came the real problem—the cost. The surgery was insanely expensive, way more than I could afford. I turned to my fiancée, hoping she would help, but instead of standing by me, she kicked me out.
And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, she posted her marriage certificate with Jordan on her WhatsApp story.
I was completely lost. No money, no backup plan, no clue what to do next. Then, out of nowhere, my childhood sweetheart, Yolanda Sinclair, showed up with a team of top foreign doctors and promised they would do the surgery for free. I didn’t ask how or why, I was just desperate and she was my last hope.
But when I woke up after the surgery, the look on her face told me something was wrong before she even said a word.
"I'm sorry, Callum," she whispered. "Your dad had an immune rejection... he didn't make it."
I didn’t even know how to describe what I felt in that moment. Like the world had just collapsed around me. I gave up everything for that surgery. And it still wasn’t enough.
Yolanda didn’t leave my side. She brought me a bouquet of sunflowers and sat with me in silence before finally saying, "I’ll take care of you, Callum. Let me be your sun."
And for six years, I believed her.
She was there for me, always making sure I had what I needed, helping me through the struggles of living with an artificial kidney. She was the perfect wife, or so I thought.
Then, one night, I overheard a conversation that changed everything.
"You gave Callum’s last kidney to Jordan?" her best friend asked, her voice filled with shock. "Then his dad... No wonder he died that day. How could you do that?"
Yolanda didn’t even hesitate. "I didn’t have a choice. Callum had two healthy kidneys and he was the perfect match for Jordan."
Her friend sounded furious. "But Jordan didn’t even need another transplant! You—"
Yolanda cut her off. "I wasn’t going to risk it. I needed to make sure Jordan would be okay. I’d only feel at peace if I gave him both of Callum’s kidneys."
——
I felt like I was going to be sick.
Her friend tried one last time. "Callum’s blood type is rare. Do you even realize what you did? It’s nearly impossible to find a compatible kidney for him. That artificial one, it barely keeps him alive. He’s in constant pain. Even eating is hell for him. He’s your husband, Yolanda. How could you do this to him?"
For a second, there was silence. And then Yolanda said, in the coldest voice I’d ever heard, "I make sure he has the best painkillers. That’s enough."
I couldn’t breathe.
The woman who promised to take care of me, who swore to be my light, had stolen my life and left me to suffer—just to make sure Jordan was safe. And I never even saw it coming.
Sadie Stokes shot up from her chair, eyes blazing. "This isn’t about painkillers, Yolanda! Jordan guilt-tripped Callum into giving up a kidney and you straight-up stole the other one!
“His father died in agony on that operating table and you just let it happen. That was a life! Have you even thought about what’ll happen if Lin ever finds out the truth?"
Yolanda stayed silent, but Sadie pressed on. "You still have a chance to fix this. Let Jordan give Callum his kidney back. Even just one. You’ve lined up so many donors for him—"
"No!" Yolanda snapped, cutting her off. "Those are Jordan’s safety nets. None of them are going anywhere."
She let out a slow breath, then said, almost to herself, "Callum will never find out. And even if he does one day, I’ll make it up to him. Everything I have; money, my whole damn life, I’ll use it to compensate him. As long as Jordan is safe, I don’t care what it costs."
Outside the study, my fingers tightened around my coffee cup. My hands were shaking so badly that the scorching liquid sloshed over, burning my skin. But the pain barely registered.
It was nothing compared to the fire spreading through my chest. Before they could notice me, I turned and rushed back to the bedroom, barely able to breathe. My head was spinning. My stomach churned. I shoved the window open, letting the freezing air hit me like a slap.
I pressed play on my phone, over and over again, listening to the recording until every word was seared into my brain.
My father didn’t die from rejection. Yolanda never called in a medical team for him. She didn’t save me. She destroyed me.
She wasn’t my savior, she was the executioner. My father’s life, my body—just collateral damage for the man she actually loved.
A voice snapped me out of it. "Callum? Why are you standing there with the window open? You’re not in good health, you’ll catch a cold."
I turned and there she was. Yolanda. She frowned when she saw my face. "Callum, what’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?"
I forced a weak smile, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. "No," I murmured, pressing a hand to my stomach. "It’s just… my stomach hurts again."
第2章
Yolanda's eyes filled with tears as she reached for my hand. "Seeing you like this, Callum… it breaks my heart. If your dad hadn’t been in critical condition, I never would’ve let you donate your last kidney."
Hearing those words after everything I had just found out made my stomach twist. My fingers curled into the blanket, but I forced myself to stay calm.
I took a slow breath. "Yolanda… this artificial kidney… it's unbearable. The pain never stops. I don’t think I can do this anymore. Maybe Jordan could—"
"No!" Her sharp voice cut through the room like a slap.
Maybe she realized how harsh she sounded, because the next second, she softened her tone, brushing my hair back gently. "Callum, you know you can't take back something you've already donated. That’s not how it works.
“Jordan’s health is fragile and matching kidney donors are so rare. You were the only one willing to help him. Do you really want him to suffer? To die?"
She looked me straight in the eyes as she said it, her expression full of sincerity. And in that moment, I knew, she didn’t feel guilty at all.
I thought back to the night it all started.
Jordan and my fiancée at the time, Kyra Silverman, got into a terrible car accident. Jordan was badly injured and needed a kidney transplant. Kyra and Yolanda begged me to save him, making me feel like I had no choice.
It wasn’t until later that I learned the truth. The crash didn’t happen because of bad weather or reckless driving.
It happened because Jordan and Kyra were screwing around in the car—literally. And yet, I was the one who paid the price.
Yolanda stroked my face, her voice soft. "Be good, okay? You have an artificial kidney now and it's keeping you alive, isn’t it? I’ll get you two painkillers and then I’ll hold you until you fall asleep. It won’t hurt, I promise."
Yeah, right. If artificial kidneys were so great, why didn’t she make Jordan get one? Because she couldn’t stand the thought of him suffering.
That night, I made her warm milk like always, only this time, I slipped in two sleeping pills.
She fell asleep fast. Maybe too fast. Her body relaxed, her chest rising and falling steadily. And that was when I noticed it, just a small glimpse of ink peeking out from beneath her pajama collar. A tattoo.
I hesitated, then carefully unbuttoned her top a little. It was a delicate tattoo of a little princess holding a rose.
And on the petals of that rose, one name was written. Jordan.
No wonder she always insisted on wearing pajamas to bed. No wonder she never let me see her fully undressed, even when we were making love.
I had never really been her husband, just a fool she used to keep her real love alive. I used to think it was just a habit of hers, nothing more. But now, everything made sense.
Every choice she made, every careful decision—it was all a lie.
My hands trembled as I reached for my phone. I scrolled through my contacts until I found the name I needed. A childhood friend. A doctor. Someone I could trust.
The call barely rang before he picked up.
"I need you to do a surgery for me," I said, my voice calm. Too calm.
A beat of silence. Then, "Callum… are you sure?"
"Yes," I answered without hesitation. "I won’t regret it. See you in three days."
If Yolanda could take my father’s life and destroy my body without a second thought, then I had no reason to accept her pity.
I set my phone down and turned toward her laptop. It was unlocked. She had always been careless with her passwords, never expecting me to look.
A folder on the desktop caught my attention. [The Beloved Rose.]
I clicked on it and my screen flooded with photos and videos of Jordan. Over ten gigabytes' worth.
File after file, endless proof of her devotion. Then, I found their chat logs. Screenshots—meticulously saved, each labeled with a date.
I scrolled through them, bile rising in my throat. She had given him everything. Watches, jewelry, luxury trips.
And then, the best part; an entire castle. Because Jordan had once texted her, [Yolanda, I think the air in Serica is terrible. What if it slows down my scar recovery? I’m your prince, right? All the princes in movies live in castles.]
And just like that, she bought him one.
I kept scrolling, coming across a newer picture—Jordan lifting his shirt, showing off his scars.
Except… there were no scars. The best plastic surgeons in Serica had already taken care of them.
Meanwhile, I looked down at my own body, at the deep, ugly scars cutting across my stomach. No fancy surgeons for me. No castle. Just pain.
I closed the folder, my breath uneven. But then, another file caught my eye. A spreadsheet.
[Jordan's Spare Organ Bank.]
I opened it, my chest tightening as I read through the list. More than a dozen names. Each with a price tag.
[No. 1: Willing to donate organs for 300 thousand dollars. A little old, temporarily for Jordan.]
[No. 2: Willing to donate organs for 600 thousand dollars. Quite greedy. Kidney health is good, but unfortunately, she’s a woman. I don’t want another woman’s organ inside Jordan’s body. Temporary backup.]
I gripped the laptop so hard my knuckles turned white. It was a damn spare parts list.
第3章
Of course, my name was on the list too.
[Callum Lister – suitable gender, suitable age, high kidney match. Jordan felt great after using one. Can take the second one. Compensation: none. Economical and affordable.]
I stared at those words, my stomach twisting. Economical and affordable.
That was all I was to her. Not her husband. Not someone she cared about. Just a convenient organ donor with a perfect match.
I felt a strange kind of numbness settle in, like my brain refused to process the betrayal all at once. Without thinking, I printed out the list, along with the divorce agreement I had prepared earlier.
Then, I sat down on the couch and stayed there all night. By morning, my back ached from sitting so long, but my mind was clearer.
Yolanda walked in, assuming I had just woken up early. She didn’t suspect a thing. As usual, she placed a bowl of porridge in front of me.
"Here, I tried a new recipe today. Let me know if you like it," she said with a smile. Because of my artificial kidney, I could only eat soft food. She made sure I had something warm and nutritious every morning, always switching up the ingredients so I wouldn’t get bored.
I used to think it was sweet. Now, it just made me feel sick.
She noticed me hesitating and frowned. "Callum, are you okay? Why aren’t you eating? Do you want me to make something else?"
My fingers brushed against the divorce papers in my pocket. "Yolanda, we need to—"
Before I could finish, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and instantly, her whole expression changed. A gentle expression appeared in her face as she quickly picked up. "Hello? Mm… Of course, I didn’t forget. Everything is ready. See you later."
She turned back to me with an apologetic smile. "Callum, something urgent came up at work. I have to go in and it might take a while. If you need anything, let’s talk when I get back, okay?"
She grabbed her coat and left before I could get another word in. I let out a slow breath, staring at the untouched porridge in front of me.
Even now, after everything, I wasn’t her priority. Even now, I was waiting for her.
That evening, my phone buzzed with a text. [Callum, it’s me. My phone is dead. Come to the Crown Hotel, I have a surprise for you.]
Yolanda.
I checked the date, it was my birthday. I almost laughed. Perfect timing. I was going to see her anyway—I still had things to say.
When I arrived at the hotel, I overheard two waiters talking near the entrance. "Ms. Sinclair really goes all out for her husband, huh?" one of them said, sounding impressed.
"Right? She booked the entire top floor and filled it with roses. Not just any roses, either, some super rare variety. She even had them flown in on private jets. Can you imagine? Just because her husband's favorite flower is roses!"
"You see that watch Ms. Sinclair just gave her husband? That thing could probably buy a whole country!" one of the waiters gushed.
The other sighed. "I know, right? I heard she got it as a welcome-home gift just for him. Seriously, how lucky can a guy get?"
And just like that, it all made sense why Yolanda never gave me roses and why she used sunflowers when she proposed.
I had asked for a rose once. Just one. She laughed, said they were too fragile, too delicate—not for me.
Now I knew the truth. It wasn’t that I didn’t suit roses. It was that Jordan did and to her, I simply wasn’t worth them.
The realization sat heavy in my chest as I stepped into the hall. That was when I saw them.
Yolanda, standing in the middle of a sea of roses, carefully fastening an expensive watch onto Jordan’s wrist. She adjusted it with a tenderness I hadn’t seen from her in years, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
They looked like they belonged there. like they were the perfect couple. Jordan noticed me then. His brows pulled together in confusion before he let out a dramatic scoff.
"What’s up with security tonight? Since when do they let beggars in?" His voice carried over the crowd, drawing even more attention my way. "Get him out of here before he ruins the party Yolanda threw for me!"
Laughter followed. Whispers spread like wildfire. I could feel their eyes on me; mocking, judging. Picking me apart like I was nothing but a joke.
"Wait a second," someone sneered, "isn’t that Ms. Sinclair’s useless husband?"
"Yeah, I heard he lost both kidneys. Now he just leeches off her, waiting to die."
"If you ask me, a guy like that should just end it already instead of dragging other people down."
"Seriously, just look at him. Weak as hell, a total disgrace. And compared to Jordan? It’s embarrassing. He must’ve tricked Ms. Sinclair into marrying him or something. And now he’s out here, making a fool of himself."
More laughter. More whispers. And Yolanda just stood there, she didn’t deny it. Didn’t defend me. She didn’t say a damn thing.
第4章
Losing both kidneys left me looking weak and apparently, that made me an easy target. "I heard kidneys help filter waste," someone snickered. "Since he lost both, his stomach must be full of shit. No wonder he reeks."
Laughter rippled through the room. I stood there, silent, as they laughed at me like I wasn’t even a person.
Then Yolanda finally saw me. Her eyes widened for a second before she quickly composed herself and walked over, looking embarrassed.
"Callum, what are you doing here?" she asked, forcing a smile. "Don't get the wrong idea. Jordan just got back today and I wanted to welcome him properly."
Before I could say anything, Jordan slung an arm around her shoulders, grinning like he was enjoying the moment.
"Oh, Callum, it's you?" He laughed. "My bad, man. Yolanda went overboard with these crystal chandeliers, said they’d make me look even more handsome. Guess the glare messed with my eyes. Thought some random beggar wandered in."
More laughter. I ignored him and looked at Yolanda. "Do you know what day it is?"
She blinked, confused. I waited, still nothing. I let out a short, bitter laugh. Of course. She had forgotten. Again.
For years, she brushed it off, saying old couples didn’t need birthdays. That just being together was enough.
Yet here she was, throwing a grand celebration for him, surrounding him with imported roses, draping him in designer gifts.
For me? Nothing. I must’ve looked ridiculous standing there.
Yolanda hesitated like she was about to say something, maybe explain, but Jordan suddenly groaned and clutched his stomach.
"Yolanda… my stomach hurts," he murmured, leaning into her. "I think my old wound isn’t fully healed."
Six years. He had been milking this same excuse for six years, but Yolanda panicked like it was the first time she’d heard it.
"What? You were fine just now! Maybe your shirt is too tight?" She fussed over him, adjusting his collar. "I told you, even if you wore a sack, you’d still be the most handsome man in the world, but you never listen."
Then she turned to me. "Callum, just sit down for a while, okay? Jordan isn’t feeling well. I need to take care of him."
And just like that, she was gone, helping him upstairs like I didn’t even exist. I stood there, stuck in a sea of roses and whispered laughter.
"Some people really think that just because they married Ms. Sinclair, they actually matter," someone sneered.
Another scoffed. "Please. Everyone knows Ms. Sinclair only ever loved Jordan. If Kyra hadn’t gotten there first, you think he would even be here?"
Mocking voices. Disgusted stares. I was just standing there, humiliated, while the woman who once swore to love me disappeared into an elevator with another man.
"Get lost already. No amount of roses can cover up the stench coming from your gut. Stop polluting the air. Honestly, what’s even the point of you being alive?"
Laughter followed, cruel and sharp, cutting through me like a blade. I said nothing.
My fingers curled around the divorce papers hidden in my pocket, crumpling the edges. My chest tightened, but I refused to let them see me break. Without a word, I turned and walked away, heading upstairs.
When I reached the suite, I noticed the door wasn’t fully closed. Something told me to turn around and leave. That I didn’t need to see whatever was happening inside.
But I looked anyway and I regretted it instantly.
Jordan was sprawled out on the sofa and Yolanda was practically draped over him, her skirt riding up as she clung to his neck. Her eyes were hazy, lips slightly parted, caught between hesitation and desire.
"Yolanda, is my skin still smooth?" Jordan murmured, his fingers trailing lazily over her arm. "Are there any scars?"
She squirmed, a weak attempt at resistance. "Jordan, we shouldn't... You're married now, I—"
"Shh..." He pulled her closer, tilting her chin up. "Yolanda, I remember everything you did for me. Even if I had to marry someone else, my heart still belongs to you." His voice dropped, smooth and coaxing. "I'm your rose, remember? Tonight, you can touch me as much as you want."
With that, he unbuttoned her dress, revealing a tattoo beneath her collarbone. He pressed his hand against it, then leaned in and kissed her.
Yolanda trembled. Whatever willpower she had left snapped in an instant and she kissed him back—hungry, desperate, as if she had been waiting for this moment all her life.
I had never seen this side of her before. The woman who always prided herself on composure, who once told me she hated recklessness, now throwing herself so completely at him.
For a second, I couldn’t move. Then something inside me cracked. I raised my phone, hit record and captured every second of it.
By the time I stopped, my hands were shaking. I couldn’t watch anymore. I stumbled out of the room, my legs weak beneath me.
Downstairs, I collapsed onto the curb outside the hotel, my head spinning. Laughter and music spilled out from inside, but none of it belonged to me.
I sat there, cold and empty, staring at nothing. Then, without warning—Splash.
A bucket of filth; rotten fish, shrimp, God knows what else, crashed over me, soaking through my clothes and chilling me to the bone.
第5章
"Callum, let me do you a favor."
Jordan’s voice was light, almost playful, as he stepped out of the shadows, twirling a knife between his fingers. "Since you reek of shit, how about a bucket of swill to cover it up? No need to thank me."
The cold liquid dripped from my hair, soaking through my clothes. My whole body stiffened, but I didn’t react.
Jordan smirked. "How did it feel, watching me and Yolanda? Must’ve been quite the show, huh? Since you were so generous with your kidneys, I figured I’d be generous too—let you watch us for free."
I clenched my jaw. So that was his game. He wanted me to see it.
"I didn’t give them to you," I said, my voice calm but firm. "You cheated. You stole them."
Jordan let out a dramatic sigh, like he was disappointed. "And? What are you gonna do about it? Some people are born to serve and you? You’re one of them. Doesn’t matter if it’s your kidneys, your pride, or your whole damn life—you were made to be used by people like me."
His eyes gleamed with amusement as he took a step closer. "And Yolanda? She understands that. If I told her to get rid of you, she wouldn’t even flinch. Because I’m the only man she’s ever truly loved."
His words hit harder than I wanted to admit, but I kept my face blank.
Jordan tilted his head, studying me. "You’re even more pathetic than I thought, Callum. You actually believed you could keep Yolanda? That you could share her with me?" He laughed, slow and mocking. "What a joke."
I said nothing.
"Your fiancée. Your wife. Your father’s life. Both of your kidneys. Everything you had, I took. Because I wanted to. And because Yolanda let me."
My hands curled into fists.
Jordan grinned, like he was enjoying this. "Don’t believe me? Let me break it down for you. That night, I pretended to have a stomachache. Told Yolanda I was worried one kidney wouldn’t be enough. And you know what she did?"
He paused, waiting for a reaction. "She took your last kidney without a second thought. Handed it over like it meant nothing."
A cold, sick feeling twisted in my gut, but he wasn’t done. "And your father? He screamed when he died. Eyes bulging, teeth cracking from clenching so hard. But you know what’s funny?"
Jordan leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Even in his last moments, he was worried about you."
He pulled back, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. "The old man was in agony, but all he cared about was his useless son. How pathetic is that?"
I exhaled sharply, my vision blurring with rage. I had known Jordan was shameless, but this was something else.
My whole body was trembling. This man had killed my father and still acted like he’d done nothing wrong.
I clenched my fists, my breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. Before I could even lift a hand, Jordan grabbed a dinner knife, dragged it across his own arm—just deep enough to break the skin—then threw it at my feet and let out a dramatic scream.
The next thing I knew, I was shoved to the ground.
"Callum, are you insane?!" Yolanda’s voice cut through the cold night air like a whip.
She had thrown herself at Jordan, her hands frantically pressing against his arm like he was bleeding out. The tiny cut had already stopped bleeding, but that didn’t stop her from tearing the hem of her expensive dress to wrap around his wound.
I just sat there, stunned. Jordan buried his face against her shoulder, his voice laced with pitiful desperation.
"Yolanda, I was just worried about Callum," he said, his tone shaking just enough to sound convincing. "I thought the cold wind might make him sick, so I invited him back to the hotel. But out of nowhere, he threw swill at me!"
He let out a shuddering breath. "I—I didn’t expect it to spill back on him and I even offered to give him my own clothes! But he—he called me a hypocrite! He blamed me for taking his kidney, for killing his father, for seducing you…"
Jordan clutched her tighter. "He said I ruined his birthday and then he tried to stab me! If I hadn’t dodged in time, Yolanda, you wouldn’t even have me anymore…"
Yolanda turned to me, her eyes dark with contempt.
"Callum, are you seriously throwing a tantrum over your stupid birthday?" She scoffed. "You’re not even gonna live to see another one, so what does it matter?"
Her words hit harder than a punch.
"And your father? He died because he was unlucky. Surgery is always risky. What does that have to do with Jordan?" She gave me a cold, condescending look.
"Even if you killed Jordan, your father wouldn’t come back. And let’s be real—this whole thing had nothing to do with him in the first place."
I couldn’t breathe.
"Why don’t you blame your own kidneys?" she went on. "Your father’s body rejected them, how is that our fault? Now quit being dramatic and apologize to Jordan."
I stared at her, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. "Yolanda…" My voice was barely above a whisper. "I just want the truth. Tell me, how did my father really die? Did you actually give him my kidney?"
For a split second, something flickered in her expression—annoyance? Guilt? Then she let out an exasperated sigh.
"Of course I did," she said, like I was the biggest idiot in the world. "What else would we have done with your kidney?"
第6章
"I've told you a hundred times, Callum, your father’s death was an accident! Why won’t you just drop it already?" Yolanda snapped, exasperated. "Honestly, I think you need to get your head checked. And while you're at it, apologize right now!"
I stared at her, the woman I had loved for six years, but at that moment, she felt like a complete stranger.
A bitter laugh escaped me. Without thinking, I reached down, grabbed the knife Jordan had thrown earlier and plunged it into my own shoulder.
The pain was sharp, hot, but I barely reacted. Blood immediately spilled down my arm, darkening my shirt.
"Callum, what the hell are you doing?!" Yolanda shrieked, her face going pale.
I met her gaze, completely unfazed. "You wanted me to apologize, right? Well, here it is—my sincerity. Satisfied?"
She stood there, frozen.
I yanked the knife out, the wound stinging, but it didn't matter. "You're right, Yolanda," I murmured. "Nothing I do will bring my father back."
Then, without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving a trail of blood behind me. Yolanda sucked in a sharp breath and for the first time, she actually hesitated.
"Callum—" But before she could say anything else, Jordan groaned dramatically, clutching his arm.
"Yolanda, Callum is so strong, he’ll be fine," he whined. "My arm, though… it really hurts. Can you take me to the hospital? I—I don’t want it to scar…"
And that was it. Yolanda bit her lip, glanced between us for a second… then stayed with him.
She never came home that night. I spent hours packing my things, then tossed everything into the fireplace, watching the flames turn my past into ash.
By morning, there was nothing left. The next day, my phone rang. Yolanda’s voice came through, softer than usual. "Callum… how’s your shoulder? Did you get it bandaged?"
I didn’t respond.
She sighed. "I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have forgotten your birthday. And I shouldn’t have said those things about your dad."
I stayed silent.
"Jordan's arm was injured," she added quickly, like she needed me to understand. "You know he’s been weak ever since the transplant. I was worried about him. And… I didn’t want Kyra to give you trouble."
I almost laughed.
Kyra wasn’t the one who destroyed my life. You did, Yolanda.
But I kept my tone even. "I'm fine. You're right, Jordan isn’t in good health. You should take care of him."
Relief flooded her voice. "I knew you’d understand." She brightened up. "Let’s celebrate your birthday tomorrow, okay? I’ll be back in the morning and I’ll bring you a gift. Buy whatever you want, it’s on me!"
But some things, once broken, could never be fixed.
"Okay," I said.
Morning came, she never showed up.
I left the divorce papers and a USB drive on the table, containing every lie, every betrayal, every piece of evidence she thought I hadn’t noticed. Then, without looking back, I walked out the door.
For the first time in years, I felt free.
Outside the hospital, my phone buzzed with a voice message from Yolanda. "Callum, I'm really sorry. An important client showed up out of nowhere and I have to meet him. How about this, I'll have my assistant take you to the mall. Pick out whatever you want and we'll meet at the banquet tonight, okay?"
I stared at the message for a second before replying. "Okay."
Sweet words. Too bad they were built on a lie.
Yolanda had no idea Jordan had just posted a story. I clicked on it. There they were—relaxing in a hot spring, Yolanda sitting right beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. Behind them, a full wall of frozen roses glowed under soft lights.
[I was only slightly injured, but she insisted on taking me to the spring, saying it's good for my body. She was worried I wouldn’t like it, so she gave me all these roses instead. Turns out, I’m loved wherever I go.]
I locked my phone and let out a slow breath. My wallpaper was still Yolanda. For a moment, I just looked at it. The woman I had loved for years, smiling like she actually cared.
Then, without hesitation, I walked over to a trash can and dropped my phone inside. I didn’t stop to watch it fall. Didn’t care when it hit the bottom with a dull thud.
I just turned and stepped into the hospital, leaving it behind. Meanwhile, Yolanda was still with Jordan. After the hot spring, she took him to the mall, staying by his side the whole time. It wasn’t until the sun started to set that she finally made her way to the hotel.
The party hall was exactly how she had planned it; filled with sunflowers, golden petals glowing under the soft lights.
She thought it was a nice touch. After all, this was the flower she used when she proposed to me. She thought I would still love them. She thought they would be enough.
Yolanda had been waiting for what felt like forever, but I still hadn’t shown up. She checked her phone, hesitated, then sighed. Just as she was about to call me, her assistant came running over, looking flustered, clutching a small box in his hands.
"Ms. Sinclair, he's not at home," he blurted out, breathless. "And someone just dropped this off for you. They said it’s from him."