Enough Pain, I’m Done with You

My husband's mistress secretly donated a vial of bone marrow to me, keeping it hidden from everyone. I survived, but she developed a severe infection due to a medical error and became critically weak. My husband, consumed by hatred for me, brought her into our marital home, lavishing her with affection right in front of me. She shamelessly took advantage of the fact that she saved my life, humiliating me without a second thought. Living in this three-way situation was impossible. Whenever I voiced my dissatisfaction, my husband would tell me it was something I owed her. In the end, the stress took its toll on my body, and I died, consumed by bitterness. When I opened my eyes again, I was back before the bone marrow transplant. This time, I made up my mind to forgo the surgery and choose to stop treatment. To my surprise, when I actually died, my husband lost his sanity. ***** The lights flickered, and the sounds of doctors, nurses, and medical equipment surrounded me. "Ready." When I opened my eyes again, the doctor was standing at the operating table, scalpel in hand. "Have I been reborn?" Realizing what had happened, I tore off the medical devices attached to me and quickly climbed off the operating table. "Doctor, I don't want the surgery. I'm giving up on treatment." "Why? You've finally found a matching bone marrow donor. If you don't go through with the surgery, you might not last more than a few months." "Better to die than live in this torment." The doctor gave me a confused look, but I signed the form to decline the surgery. With the procedure canceled, no one could save someone who had already given up. I dragged my weakened body back to the home I shared with Hobert Stein. The house was still our marital home, decorated just the way I liked it—beautiful. I sat on the couch, staring at the photos on the wall, lost in memories. During the proposal, Hobert had said, "This beautiful home deserves a beautiful wife and children." I'd shyly nodded, feeling like the happiest woman alive. But six months into our marriage, we hadn't conceived, so we went for medical check-ups. It was during these tests that my illness was discovered, along with his affair. I fainted in the hospital hallway. Before I lost consciousness, I saw Aisha's panicked face. Aisha Wilson was Hobert's mistress. I had met Hobert while studying abroad. Later, when his father fell ill, Hobert returned to take over the family business, while I took a promising job offer I couldn't turn it down. In those two years, Hobert had started an affair with Aisha. Two years later, I returned to Phemont as Executive Director for Dreport. Hobert rushed to pick me up—fifteen minutes late. He handed me a bouquet of roses, slightly wilted. "Kellie, I'm sorry I'm late." I hugged him and laughed, "What does it matter when love happens?" But later, I realized that if love doesn't care about timing, someone else will take advantage of the situation. I found the flirtatious texts Aisha had sent Hobert. Before picking me up, he'd been with her. It wasn't until I spoke with mutual friends that I learned Aisha had been living with Hobert during my two years abroad. That meant, that every time Hobert sent me a message or made a call, Aisha was there, right beside him. I was someone who was sensitive about fidelity. The more evidence I uncovered, the more disgusted I became. Eventually, I couldn't hold it in any longer and confronted Hobert. "If you're so attached to your mistress, why even tell me you love me and want to marry me?" "Kellie Walsh, you're Mrs. Stein! Can you stop making a scene?" Our once happy home was now filled with constant arguments. Hobert stopped coming home altogether. I couldn't sleep, my hair fell out in clumps. I knew something was wrong with me and went to see a psychiatrist, breaking down in front of the doctor. Crying cleared my mind. I thought about Hobert's tenderness, and realized I could never go back to that love. I asked for a divorce. He said nothing. But when I returned home, emotionally exhausted, I opened the door to find the floor covered in rose petals. Hobert stood there in a white shirt and a pink bunny apron, arms wide open. "Kellie, happy anniversary. I will always love you." I coldly avoided his embrace and said, "Hobert, I want a divorce." His smile froze, shock in his eyes. "Kellie, are you serious?" "Of course. Adults don't play games with each other." I sat down and picked up a glass of water from the coffee table. The room fell silent for a moment before Hobert slowly removed his apron. A chill ran through me. So, the act couldn't last, could it? Hobert turned to put the apron on a chair, then turned back, tears welling up in his eyes. He dropped to his knees in front of me and grabbed my hand. "Kellie, I was wrong. I was really wrong! Please, don't divorce me. Please, give me another chance." "I truly love only you. I wasn't thinking clearly before. Please, just one more chance?" "Kellie..." I was shocked because I had never seen Hobert cry like this. His tears slowly softened my heart. I looked up, trying to hold back my own tears, and memories of our sweet times flooded my mind. "Hobert, get up." "I won't get up until you say yes." "Stop being so childish, okay? Just get up." Hobert stood up, looking nervous. Then I threw myself into his arms, thinking to myself, 'So what if I still love him?' As adults, we all had to make compromises. And for me, love still mattered. After I fainted and woke up in the hospital, the doctor told me that my leukemia was acute and that I didn't have much time left. The prognosis was bleak because I might not survive long enough to find a suitable bone marrow donor. But to my surprise, not long after, the doctor happily informed me that a match had been found. However, the donor refused to reveal her identity. I understood that well. 'Maybe the donor has gone through some personal tragedy—why else would she donate bone marrow and stay anonymous?' What I never expected was that the donor was Aisha. I signed a pile of documents, and Aisha's bone marrow was successfully transplanted into my body. When I woke up from the surgery, Hobert was overwhelmed with emotions, his eyes red. He told me that we owed Aisha, and that he would do everything he could to repay her. At the time, I didn't understand why, but when I saw Aisha again, she appeared delicate, like a wilting flower. Hobert was attentive to her, even bringing her into our home to care for her. It didn't take long for me to realize that Aisha was still trying to take Hobert from me. She used the bone marrow donation to position herself and Hobert on a moral high ground. Every time I expressed even the slightest frustration, Hobert would scold me, "Isn't Aisha doing this for you? Kellie, you should be grateful!" And every time, Aisha would wear a victorious smile. I watched helplessly as Aisha became the de facto Mrs. Stein, while I was powerless to stop it. I lived each day in misery, forcing a smile, until my physical health finally deteriorated. A year later, my condition worsened, and I ultimately passed away. When I died, Hobert was with Aisha, and she only had a mild cold from a draft. This time around, I decided to let go—and finally, let myself go too.