"I'm sorry, Ms. Johnson. The test results confirm late-stage gastric cancer." Emma sat frozen at the bus stop, the hospital report trembling in her hands, her once-bright eyes now hollow with despair. Despite the summer heat, a cold sensation crept through her body. For two years, she'd battled stomach pain, dismissing it as nothing serious. When the pain intensified, she finally visited the hospital, expecting a simple diagnosis of gastritis. Cancer was the last thing she'd anticipated. She had just celebrated her twenty-third birthday last week. How could this happen? Emma's phone buzzed. A text message appeared with an attached photo of a prenatal report for someone named Olivia. The message read: "What does it matter that you've been married to Jack for three years? He's never publicly acknowledged you. He even takes me on his business trips now. I'm having his baby, and he wants me to keep it. Woman to woman, I'm giving you advice—sign those divorce papers. The longer you drag this out, the more he'll resent you." Emma zoomed in on Olivia's prenatal report, then glanced at her own cancer diagnosis. Her husband's ex had his baby growing inside her, while she, the legitimate Mrs. Williams, had cancer eating away at her insides. How ironic. She laughed—a hollow sound that quickly dissolved into silent tears. Four years ago, when Jack Williams lay in a coma after a devastating car accident, Olivia had abandoned him to pursue her dancing career abroad. It was Emma who had stood by his side, against her family's wishes, shedding her pride to care for him anonymously and tirelessly. After a year, Jack recovered completely. "What do you want in return?" he'd asked her. Gathering her courage, 20-year-old Emma had replied: "I want you." The next day, they were married. There was no wedding ceremony. Oak Manor, a private estate in suburban Boston, became their marital home. For three years, they lived in secrecy. Jack never publicly acknowledged their marriage. Only on weekends would he bring her to the Williams family estate as his wife. In public, she was Jack's executive assistant. In private, she played the role of Mrs. Williams with unwavering dedication. Yet to Jack, she remained dispensable. He never remembered her birthday, didn't know about her allergies to shrimp and pollen, and never asked about her family. After three years of marriage, they had shared a bed but remained strangers in every way that mattered. Despite everything, Emma had convinced herself that a cordial, distant marriage was enough, as long as she could remain by his side. That illusion shattered two months ago. A Twitter post revealed that Broadway's star dancer Olivia had returned home, with Williams Group CEO Jack personally greeting her at the airport and sharing an intimate candlelit dinner afterward. Soon, rumors of their imminent engagement flooded social media. No one in New York knew Jack had been married for years. No one realized that Emma was his secret wife. The most painful irony came when a reporter had interviewed her, asking if the rumors about Jack and Olivia were true. Facing the camera, she had answered with poise: "That's Mr. Williams' personal business. As his assistant, I have no right to comment." But she had asked Jack about it the day after Olivia's return. His response had been brutal: "You have no right to question anything I do." His words had broken something inside her. All reason fled as emotion took over. Like a jealous madwoman, she had screamed about how Olivia had abandoned him when he needed her most. Jack hadn't cared. It was their first fight in three years of marriage, and the only time Emma had lost control in front of him. The argument ended abruptly when Jack said, "Let's get divorced." He had slammed the door behind him, leaving Emma stunned and speechless. That night, he didn't come home. Emma waited on the sofa until dawn. The next day, the first divorce agreement arrived. Over the next two months, a new copy appeared every week. By last week, she had received eight versions. Returning to the present, Emma blinked back her tears, forcing her head up. She had only six months left to live... she shouldn't waste what little time remained on this tragic, one-sided love. She had loved completely, tried her hardest, and given everything to their relationship without holding back. It was time to let go.

In the distant future, where intergalactic travels and advanced species coexist, a recovered species known as the Zerglin once roamed the military echelons with pride. Hailing from these depths was Sylvie Monté, a venerated general, known for his valor and fortitude. Yet, when a political coup cloaked in betrayal unfurled its treacherous tendrils, Sylvie was ensnared. Stripped of status, dignity, and nearly life itself, he bore witness to the cruelty of his enemies. It was in this desolation that Alaric 'Al' Fenton, a minor military official with a steadfast sense of duty and a heart untouched by pretense, encountered the disgraced Sylvie. First glimpsed as a mere commodity on a grainy advertisement, battered yet retaining an eerie allure that beckoned Al closer. What began as an impulsive rescue soon grew into an unlikely companionship, setting the stage for a tale that entwines destiny with redemption.