Chapter 1

One year after menopause, my period came back.

My best friend said this wasn't normal and told me to get to the hospital immediately.

The test results were covered in dense data I couldn't understand.

The doctor stared at the report for a long time, then suddenly looked up and asked me, "Is your husband here?"

I said he was waiting outside.

The doctor said, "Have him come in. There are some things I need to tell him directly."

I panicked. "Doctor, is it some kind of disease? You can just tell me."

The doctor shook her head. "This matter—he needs to know."

After my husband went in, the door closed.

I pressed my ear against it and heard the doctor's first sentence: "Your wife's condition is very unusual..."

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I'm forty-five years old.

I've always been healthy.

One year after menopause, I started bleeding again.

Not much, but bright red.

My heart sank.

My best friend Lily said this was called postmenopausal bleeding, and it wasn't good. She told me to get to the hospital right away.

I didn't dare delay. The next day, I had my husband Marcus accompany me to City First Hospital.

I got an appointment with a specialist.

After a series of tests, it was already afternoon.

I sat in the gynecology director's office holding a stack of reports, my heart pounding with anxiety.

The smell of disinfectant in the office was so strong it was suffocating.

Marcus sat next to me, his hand gripping mine.

His palm was hot and sweaty.

I knew he was even more nervous than I was.

The doctor was a woman in her fifties, Director Wilson.

She took my test reports and examined them one by one, extremely slowly and carefully.

Her brow was furrowed from the start.

My heart sank along with her expression, bit by bit.

Was it some terrible disease?

Cancer?

I didn't dare think about it.

My son had just started college. I hadn't seen him settle down yet.

If I died, what would happen to this family?

Marcus felt my trembling and squeezed my hand hard.

"Don't be scared. It'll be okay," he said in a low voice.

His words didn't help.

My fear was like vines, growing wildly from the bottom of my heart and up, wrapping around my throat.

Finally, Director Wilson put down the reports.

She pushed up her glasses and looked past me at Marcus.

"You're her husband?"

Marcus nodded quickly. "Yes, I am."

Director Wilson's expression was complicated—sympathetic and grave.

"You—come with me for a moment."

She pointed to the inner office.

I froze.

Marcus froze too.

"Doctor," I spoke first, my voice trembling, "is my illness very serious? Just tell me directly. I can handle it."

Director Wilson shook her head.

Her gaze remained fixed on Marcus's face.

"There are some things I need to discuss with your husband first."

"Why?" I grew anxious. "It's my own body. Why can't I know?"

Marcus also said, "Director Wilson, just say what you need to say. We're husband and wife. There's nothing we can't hear together."

Director Wilson's expression didn't soften at all.

She stood up, her tone brooking no argument.

"You come in first."

She walked into the inner office first, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Marcus glanced at me, his eyes full of reassurance.

"Don't worry. I'll go in and ask. It's probably just some things men need to pay attention to... about cooperating with treatment."

He stood up and followed her in.

The office door closed in front of me with a soft click.

My heart was shut into an airtight box along with that soft sound.

Fear and anxiety grew wildly in the darkness.

What kind of illness was it that they couldn't tell me directly?

Why did they need to tell my husband first, to prepare him mentally?

I couldn't sit still anymore.

I walked to that door and pressed my ear against it.

The door was thick with good soundproofing.

I couldn't hear anything clearly.

I could only hear Director Wilson's muffled voice, as if through a layer of water.

I was anxious like an ant on a hot pan, sweating all over.

I pressed my ear closer, straining with all my might to make out the words.

Suddenly, Director Wilson's tone seemed to rise a little.

One fragmented sentence, like a needle, pierced through the door and into my ear.

"...your wife's condition... is very unusual..."

Unusual?

What did that mean?

My mind went blank with a buzzing sound.

All kinds of terrible guesses flooded in like a tide.

Had I contracted some extremely rare terminal illness?

Before I could process that sentence, the office door suddenly opened from inside.

I stumbled and nearly fell.

Marcus stood in the doorway, his face deathly pale, his eyes hollow.

He looked at me like I was a stranger.

I had never seen that look before.

It wasn't concern or worry, but a mix of shock, absurdity, and... a trace of indescribable resentment.

His look made my skin crawl.

"Marcus, what did the doctor say? What's wrong with me?" I grabbed his arm and asked urgently.

He didn't answer.

He just looked at me, his lips moving but making no sound.

His arm was rigid.

Director Wilson came out from behind him, glanced at me, and sighed.

"Your husband will tell you."

"Go home."

Marcus seemed to have lost his soul, turning mechanically.

He grabbed my wrist with surprising force.

"Let's go."

Just one word, cold and stiff.

He dragged me out, making me stumble.

My mind was completely in chaos.

This wasn't how a husband should react after learning his wife had a serious illness.

What was going on?

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