Diagnosed with terminal illness.

"Oh my! That blue necklace really looks good on you."

"Really? My husband got it for me. It is a pave-set diamond. Custom-made."

"It is beautiful. I must say, blue is your color."

"Thank you. Where did you get that Casimir coat from? Is that a bespoke Italian cashmere?"

The response was a high-pitched giggle. "Italian cashmere, it is. Shipped directly from France. There are only two of it available in the country and I had to source it externally."

Vera tuned out the conversations happening around her.

She didn’t talk, nor did anyone try to add her to the discussion.

Eyes lowered, she browsed through her phone.

"vera—"

It took some seconds for her to register the voices calling out to her. At the same time she felt a warm sensation in the space between her nose and upper lips.

With familiar movements, she tilted her head up.

"Vera, you are bleeding."

Why was it happening again?

A drop of blood rolled down her chin and splattered on the chest area of the off-white blouse she was wearing.

The stain was prominent in the light background, standing out like a sore thumb.

"Are you okay?" One of the ladies gasped, looking at her with horror.

"Oh my God!"

All eyes were fixed on her.

Vera frowned, disliking the sudden attention. "It is nothing."

"Here—" a light blue handkerchief with visible flower embroidery appeared in front of her.

"Thank you."

Although she tried to block the flow, everyone present could see the blue handkerchief slowly dye red.

The girl who handed her the handkerchief narrowed her eyes worriedly. "How come it is this bad?"

"Nosebleeds are usually caused by stress. I used to have them a lot back in high school."

"But to bleed this much."

Someone clicked their tongue. "I say, isn't this what happens when you keep holding on to something that isn't yours?

The voice was full of thinly hidden mockery.

Vera's marriage with Mikhail was a well-known joke in the inner circle.

There was no telling how it had been revealed that Vera had threatened Mikhail with her life to force him to marry her.

Such a thing was unheard of and naturally became a well-discussed topic both for small talk and sharing a laugh.

Although no one said more, Vera could keenly feel their jeering eyes.

"I will use the restroom." Vera promptly stood up and walked away. Leaving the prying gazes behind.

The reflection in the mirror showed a pale face.

Sure enough. She shouldn't have accepted the invitation for the luncheon.

Among the elite family, the women meeting up was a common networking practice.

Discussing flower arrangements, embroidery, and most importantly, exchanging gossip.

If not that Mikhail had taunted her that she was stiff and didn't know how to act like a lady, and she wouldn't have attended the stupid meetup.

Vera turned on the tap.

Her fingers shook when they came in contact with the running water.

Cold.

It was so unfortunate that the handkerchief was already soaked with blood. Even dry cleaning might not be able to completely wash the stain off.

It took ten minutes before the flow of blood stopped. Vera leaned against the sink, feeling the straight drain out of her body.

This was already the sixth time this week, and it was just Tuesday.

Her right hand moved to her chest and pressed down lightly. Behind the ribcages her heart drummed erratically as if about to fly out of the cage in any second.

What was wrong with her body?

At first when the nosebleed started, Vera hadn't taken it seriously.

Vera had dismissed it as being due to the nights she spent staying up drafting her newest novel. She also had a severe case of insomnia and hardly slept, so she naturally took it as her body protesting.

But the tight feeling in her chest was something she couldn’t ignore.

Truly troublesome.

Vera washed her hands and dried them with a disposable towel.

Glancing down, she caught sight of the blood splatter on her blouse.

Immediately two lines of displeasure appeared on her forehead.

The spot was small and only visible if you looked closely.

But to Vera, who had a bit of myophobia and OCD, it was really an eyesore.

For no reason the day just kept getting worse and worse for Vera.

Just this morning she had entered a fight with Mikhial.

Vera had previously woken up in a good mood and even went out of her way to make him a meal and pack some for lunch.

Yet he had to spoil it with his insensitive comment.

Don't need it.

Eat it yourself.

As she thought of this, the expression on Vera's face became sour.

Forget it.

Vera walked out of the bathroom and almost ran into the person standing by the door.

"Oh, so sorry," the woman said.

Vera looked up and saw that it was the woman who handed her the handkerchief.

She didn't know her name, but the face wasn't completely unfamiliar.

"Sorry about the handkerchief. If you tell me the brand, I can get you a new one."

"No, it is okay." Marble shook her head, then asked worriedly. "How about your nose? Is it okay?

"Hmm..." They weren't familiar with each other. Vera's response was curt. "I am fine."

Daphne also understood this. She nodded. "That is good."

As she turned to leave, Daphne hesitated before saying to her. "You should try going to the hospital for a checkup."

Vera scrunched up her brows. The stuffiness in her chest was yet to dissipate.

Maybe she really should pay a visit to the hospital.

***********

The decision was made due to the convenience. Vera didn’t have anything to do later that day since she didn’t need to go to the company.

She stopped by the hospital on the way home thinking that whatever it was shouldn’t take her more than thirty minutes.

"terminal illness..."

The rest of the doctor's words blurred out.

A loud siren went off in Vera's ears.

She sat there in disbelief.

She was going to die?

Her mind was completely blank, and when she recovered, her first thought was, "It really is a case of till death do us apart."

This was the exact word she said to Mikail after he brought up the divorce for the nth time last month.

Was this Heaven's way of saying that she should let go?

Even the people upstairs were dissatisfied with her, it seemed.

That was right. She had truly tormented him enough.

"I understand that this must be unexpected to you, but hypertrophic cardiomyopathy is not that fatal compared to other heart diseases. There is no need to lose hope. If maintained well, you can actually live up to a normal lifespan, and there are even cases of patients recovering fully from it." The doctor took in her expression and mistook it for devastation.

But the emotion Vera was feeling that instant was far from devastation.

hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. She had a heart problem.

"So what do I have to do?" Vera contained her turbulent thoughts and faced the doctor calmly.

The doctor couldn’t help but glance at her twice, admiring her state of mind. He had seen several people break down after being diagnosed with life-threatening illness all the time. Cases like this were rare.

The doctor adjusted his glass. He took twenty minutes to explain the condition to her in a tactful and layman-like manner.

Then he asked about her family, intending to speak with them.

Vera thought of calling Mikhail but immediately shook her head at the thought. Instead, she said. "No family."

As for her parents. Vera didn’t think it was necessary to tell them.

The doctor frowned.

"I don’t want to be admitted. Can't I just take drugs?"

"That won't do. You need immediate preparation for surgery. Even with that, the chances are slim. Using drugs alone will only help to alleviate the symptoms. It won't solve the root cause."

Vera remained unmoved. "I will appreciate it if you can prescribe the drugs for me and hold off the surgery."

The doctor frowns. "Young lady, I have to tell you that this isn't a good option. The more you delay, the more likely your situation is to worsen. Relying just on drugs, I am afraid you won't be able to last more than six months.

Six months.

Vera pressed her lips into a thin line.

It was still a lot of time.

Seeing her firm stance, the doctor let out a heavy sigh.

He really didn’t understand the young adults of nowadays.

They really didn’t know how to maintain their health.

What could be so important for her to put off her treatment for?

If he knew that Vera didn’t plan to seek treatment at all, he would have been more taken aback.

Before she let the doctor asked her to think it through again.

Undergoing surgery was the only way to save her life.

Drugs in hand, Vera walked out of the hospital.

Hospitals were places that never lacked tragedy.

At the lobby she saw two people who seemed to be a couple wailing hysterically at the same time the building announcement went off for a code red.

Doctors and residents alike ran swiftly down the corridors, brushing past her.

Vera halted in her step for less than a millisecond, then continued walking.

Settled in her car, the reality fully hit her like a speaking truck.

She was ill.

So the tightness in her chest wasn’t normal discomfort but the obstruction of blood leaving her left ventricle.

Her hand subconsciously moved to her pant pocket where her phone was nestled, but she stopped herself.

Such news is better said in person. She should wait for him to come home first.

Vera turned on her phone and typed hypertrophic cardiomyopathy into the search engine.

Immediately several related posts popped up, filling the screen.

Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy or Long QT syndrome, which one would I wish for my enemy?

Do I still have a chance to live well with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy?

Terminal symptoms of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.

Non-government organizations all around the world that can fund your hypertrophic cardiomyopathy treatment expenses.

Vera let out a bitter laugh.

Anyone who was told that they had a terminal illness would collapse. If not, they would be bawling their heart out.

But Vera couldn’t muster anything past the feeling of hollowness in her chest.

Ah… I am sick. I might die.

It was nearing the end of November, and the fall season was slowly replaced by a colder winter.

Outside the skies were grey and cloudy, showing signs of rain.

Vera turned up the heating in the car and felt her body warm up gradually.

She started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

Halfway home the skies opened, and large droplets of rain fell down from the skies.

The noisy plattering of the rain on the metal sheet of the car made her head hurt.

Vera freed one hand from the steering wheel and pressed down on her temple.

She drove directly into the underground parking lot.

The door opens with a soft chime.

Vera took off her outer coat and changed into the house slippers.

Inside the house was dark, so she immediately knew he wasn’t back yet.

At this point, Vera only felt exhaustion.

She had never needed nor asked for much.

Just Mikhail alone was enough.

Not only was she cruelly denied this.

Now there was even a timer hanging around her neck.

It was plain to see that the world didn’t favor her at all.

So why should she keep dragging out her ignoble existence?

She didn’t want to be tormented and tossed around under surgical knives. Vera had seen it happen before.

How illness could turn even the brightest soul into a bony hag.

Even on her last leg, Vera refused to let herself look vulnerable.

She would rather have a swift exit. Maybe find a nice and secluded place to live the remainder of her days.

Before she had six months left.

Six months to tidy everything she had here before leaving.

Starting with this messy, three-year relationship.

Thinking of this, her thoughts drifted to Mikhail, who wasn't yet home.

Checking the time, it was past ten already.

He still wasn’t back yet.

After they got married, Vera refused to hire any maid with the mindset that a home should be shared between the couple alone.

Of course this was all due to her possessiveness. Vera wouldn’t allow anyone else to occupy Mikail's space.

So except for the cleaning lady that visited three times a week to do the laundry and clean the mansion, the large house was empty except for the two of them.

Vera put the laptop aside, slipped on the warm slippers, and picked up her phone, walking towards the kitchen.

What should she cook for dinner?

It was raining outside, and the temperature had dropped considerably low. Vera decided that making warm soup would be a good idea.

She could prepare some other dishes to go with it.

The phone in her hand showed Mikhail's contact; without hesitation, she dialed his number.

The call rang twice and connected.

The person at the other side of the phone didn’t speak.

It was just as usual, so Vera didn’t feel it was off.

"How come you aren't back yet? Is work busy?"

"I thought I sent you a message that I won't be coming home today?"

Vera paused.

"You did?"