He Ignored My Poison, I Let Him Grieve

I’d been poisoned with a slow-acting toxin, and my husband, a top-tier toxicology expert, put off giving me the antidote nine whole times. The first time he left me screaming in agony, my entire body covered in painful herpes blisters, just to run off to his female student’s graduation ceremony. The second time, the poison had already spread through my limbs, my whole body locked up stiff, leaving me half-paralyzed. And what did he do? He accepted an invitation to his student’s birthday party without a second thought. This is what he said to me, "It’s just a slow poison. We can fix this any time. What’s the rush? It’s not like it’s killing you! Amira’s birthday only comes once a year! Stop being so unreasonable!" But every single time after that, Rogers Lake’s little student dreamed up a brand-new excuse to keep him occupied. I quit hoping. I listened to him. I stopped fighting. And I slipped quietly out of his life. But what I never got was, why did Rogers completely snap when I died from the poison? ***** Three years after I was poisoned, the toxin had already eaten through my internal organs. I was barely clinging to life, just dragging out my days on IV nutrients. Today was supposed to be the day Rogers finally kept his promise and gave me the antidote. The ninth time he'd promised, anyway. A whole room of researchers stood ready, every preparation already made. I gritted my teeth and stared, frozen, as a steel needle over half a meter long drove straight into the top of my thigh. I'd gone through this nine times already. But even so, that searing, bone-deep pain still drenched me in cold sweat from head to toe. This was a required sample collection before the antidote could be administered, and the sample's activity only lasted one hour. But as the clock ticked down to zero, Rogers was nowhere to be seen. The researchers were frantic. "Where is Professor Lake? Why isn't he here yet?" "If we miss this window, I'm afraid there won't be another chance!" This poison was only supposed to be non-lethal in the beginning, but with all the delays… My body couldn't take it anymore. Another sample collection cycle takes a full month, so the earliest we could try again was next month. And I… I don't think I can make it that long… I held my breath, my eyes glued to the door. Finally, with only ten minutes left before the sample lost its activity, a shadow moved in the doorway, but the person who walked in was only Rogers' assistant. He stared at the gaping bleeding wound on my thigh, his lips trembling, and he couldn't bring himself to say what he came to say. I pulled my pale, bloodless lips into a faint smile. "What's the excuse this time? Did Amira discover a new type of toxin that needs studying? Or is it another one of her stupid life-altering events that I have to step aside for?" The assistant slowly shook his head. "Neither… it's… it's Amira. She has a low-grade fever. Professor Lake was worried about her, so he's making her medicine personally. He… he said we have to wait." Dead silence dropped over the room, you could have heard a pin drop. How ridiculous is that? His own wife is dying waiting for an antidote, and he's over there messing around making damn fever medicine for his student. Every person in the room paled, their faces twisted with unease. But weirdly enough, I didn't feel nearly as heartbroken as I'd expected to. This wasn't anything new. I'd already gone through this nine whole times before. The only difference this time around? It was definitely going to be the last. Beep... A sharp electronic alarm blared out, signaling that the sample had lost its activity. By the time Rogers finally showed up, night had already fallen. He burst in, huffing and puffing, a thermos tucked under his arm. Out of sheer habit, he ladled a bowl of chicken soup, his usual peace offering for when he'd messed up, and held it out to me. "C'mon, drink it while it's hot." I turned my head away, and the bitter resentment I'd swallowed down for so long finally bubbled over. "Don't you have something you want to say to me?" Rogers hand froze midair, the soup bowl still in his grip. Annoyance etched itself across his face in sharp lines. "Sarah, can you stop pulling that long face every single time? It's like I've done some unforgivable, terrible thing! Today Amira accidentally ingested a reagent from my lab and developed a low fever. That could've turned deadly if I hadn't watched her closely. Of course, I had to stay and take care of her myself." Accidentally ingested a lab reagent, huh? Wow, she's really something, isn't she? It was such a lazy, pathetic trick. Could Rogers, whose IQ hits 180, really not see right through it? "Rogers Lake." My voice came out completely calm. "Let's get a divorce. I don't need you to cure my poison anymore."