On the third anniversary of our relationship, he went bankrupt and was diagnosed with eye cancer. I gave up my spot in the finals of the international piano competition and sold myself on the streets to earn money for his treatment. Day after day, I endured blood draws and marrow extractions, just to be a match and donate my corneas to him. My pain receptors are a hundred times more sensitive than the average person’s. Just before the surgery, the doctor was called out. But the anesthesia failed unexpectedly. I opened my eyes early, only to see a woman throw herself into my fiancé’s arms. “Honey,” she cooed, “if your girlfriend ever finds out we tricked her into donating her corneas to me… do you think she’ll hate me forever?”