Mr. Jones, Ma'am Shall Not Die

"Ma'am, didn't your family come with you?" Ada was puzzled. Wasn't it just a medical report? Did she need someone to be with her? And her family... what kind of family did she have left? Her mom passed away when she was born, her dad treated her like a money-making machine, and her brother blamed her for their mom's death, despising her. And as for her husband... she stole him from someone else. If the doctor hadn't mentioned "family," she would have almost forgotten what it meant. After a moment of confusion, Ada shook her head and said, "Nah, I'm alone." The doctor furrowed his brow, pushed his glasses up his nose, and sighed heavily, looking at Ada with pity and helplessness in his eyes. He handed her a stack of test reports on the table. "Ada, the test results are in. You have advanced gastric cancer." He seemed to feel sorry for this young woman who had received a terminal illness diagnosis, speaking and behaving with great care. Ada held her breath for a moment. She took the test report and frowned at the various numbers and indicators on it. She wasn't a medical student, but she could tell how severe the cancer in her stomach was. In fact, when she had a gastroscopy, she had a vague feeling that something was wrong, but she didn't dare to think about it. The doctor pointed to the image and explained each detail to Ada. Ada listened absentmindedly, realizing that she didn't have much time left and needed to be hospitalized for chemotherapy as soon as possible. How long can someone live with advanced gastric cancer? Ada knew this better than anyone else because her grandfather battled it for two years before passing away. The doctor kindly suggested, "Ada, we recommend that you get admitted to the hospital for treatment as soon as possible." "Can I be cured if I stay in the hospital?" Ada's voice was hoarse, her expression numb, as if she was talking to herself. The doctor didn't say anything more, just shook his head helplessly. Then there was no hope. Ada licked her dry lips, stood up, and put the diagnosis into her bag. She thanked the doctor, turned, and left the examination room. When she stepped out of the hospital, it started to rain. The drizzle mixed with the chilly wind, slashing her face like a knife. Ada opened her bag, took out an umbrella, but the rain couldn't be completely blocked, and the cold seeped in. March wasn't particularly cold, but Ada's bones were chilled to the core. The persistent cold spread through her veins, reaching every part of her body. Her fingers turned red from the cold. She held the umbrella with one hand, clenched the other into a fist and stuffed it in her pocket, but no matter how she tried to warm up, the coldness persisted. Ada wandered aimlessly. She twirled the ring on her finger, gazing at the overcast sky. The city's weather changed so rapidly. Spring had arrived before she realized it. Spring was supposed to be a season of life, so why did it have to bring her death? Ada stood by the roadside and hailed a taxi. When the taxi pulled over, she slowly folded the umbrella and got into the car. The driver turned his head and asked, "Where are you headed?" "To District C," Ada replied, her gaze downcast. After driving for a while, Ada couldn't resist opening her bag and taking another look at the pictures in the diagnosis report. The twisted and repulsive stomach in the photo was almost unrecognizable as her own. Her gastric cancer was a result of starving herself. During her four-year marriage to Joseph, she went all out to cook his favorite dishes, hoping to please him. She believed that even if he didn't love her, he would be moved by the table filled with food when he returned. But Joseph never wanted to eat with her. Undeterred, she continued to prepare delicious meals every day, sending timely text messages and waiting for him to come home. But instead of bringing him back, all this waiting brought her gastric cancer. Tears finally flowed uncontrollably. Ada sniffled, thinking she was strong enough to face any challenges. Yet today, all the strength she had pretended to possess crumbled. Her stomach convulsed, and Ada curled up, shivering and groaning in pain. The driver heard her sobbing and glanced at her through the rearview mirror. He saw the woman hunched over, her slender back trembling incessantly. Her anguish seemed to suck the air out of the car. He had never witnessed someone cry so desperately. "Miss, what's wrong? Did you have a breakup or some trouble at work?" There was no response from the backseat. He continued, "There's no obstacle that can't be overcome. Chin up, crying won't solve anything. Go home and get some good rest. Tomorrow, when the sun rises, it'll be a fresh new day." Ada looked up, a bitter smile forming on her lips. She never expected a stranger to comfort her after receiving a terminal illness diagnosis. The driver smiled and remained silent, focusing on the road until they reached the place and parked the car in a temporary spot. The half-hour ride cost a total of 28 dollarss. Ada scanned the code to make the payment and stepped out of the car. She tightly crumpled the diagnosis report she held and tossed it into a nearby trash bin. The cold wind blew, and Ada wiped away her dry tears. Once again, she regained her composure, appearing as the composed and mature woman she always portrayed, although her eyes were slightly swollen and her face was pale.