The third year into our marriage, my husband started coughing up blood. It's cancer, he said.

I didn't leave him. I stayed and?took care of him..

Then, one day, I overheard him talking to his mother.

Mom, I'm out of options. Willow is almost due, and my wife still won't divorce me!

Then make her leave. Tomorrow, soil the sheets. Make her clean them by hand. A woman has her pride.She'll break.

"And when she finally breaks, make sure she signs everything over to you."

I froze for a second, then looked at the medical report in my hand.

A smile touched my lips.

My dearest husband, you actually do have cancer.


I got home from work, and the moment I pushed open the door, I saw my husband devouring Buffalo hot wings, sweating profusely.

He looked up. A flash of annoyance, then defiance.

"Derek! The doctor said no spicy food, why are you doing this again?!"

He snapped. The fork clattered against the plate as he slammed it down.

"Cassidy! What do you want from me?! You won't even let me eat?" He yelled at me.

"You come home so late. Is this your plan? To starve me?"

"You know Brenda only cooks spicy! If you won't be here to cook, what am I supposed to do?!"

It wasn't enough. In a sudden fury, he shoved the table. The plate of wings flew, hitting the floor with a sickening crash, sauce and chicken scattering across the tiles.

"Fine, If I can't eat, no one eats! Let me starve!?I have cancer! I'm dying anyway!"

Derek's back heaved with rage.

I set my bag down slowly, the fight draining out of me.

"I'm sorry, Derek." I said, my voice carefully soft. "I'll go make you something right now."

Brenda stood by, arms crossed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Cassidy, are you tired of our Derek?"

"If you are, just say it. There's no need for this... passive starvation. It breaks a mother's heart to watch."

I quickly explained. "No, Brenda. I had to work late. It was just today. I didn't intentionally starve Derek."

Two weeks ago, Derek had been rushed to the ER, vomiting blood. The diagnosis was final, brutal: advanced lymphoma.

He opted for conservative treatment, going for chemotherapy every week.

Perhaps it was the effects of the chemo, but his temper had grown increasingly volatile.

But it was okay. I would stick by him, no matter what, until his very last breath.

I brought out baked salmon and placed it in front of Derek.

He took one bite and immediately threw it on the floor.

"What is this crap?! Are you trying to poison me?!"

"It has no flavor at all! How do you expect me to eat this?!"

I sighed, took the plate back to the kitchen, and started over.

I remade it three times. Each time, Derek was unsatisfied.

The last time, Derek flipped the table again. He pointed a finger at my nose and swore at me.

"Cassidy! What are you trying to do?! If you don't want to cook, then don't!"

My eyes welled up, and I quickly crouched down to clean the scattered food from the floor.

"I'm sorry, Derek. Tell me what you want. I'll make anything."

Derek turned his head away.

"I've lost my appetite. Thanks to you."

Brenda stepped forward and rubbed his back, blaming me.

"He's?sick, Cassidy. Have some compassion. This stress is toxic for his condition."

"If this burden is too much for you, just divorce him!"

I froze, and a shard of plate accidentally cut my palm.

"Brenda, that's not what I meant. Derek is like this; how could I ever abandon him?"

Brenda rolled her eyes at me, arms still crossed.

"You say you don't mind, but deep down you do. If you really want to make it up to Derek, then leave all your money for his treatment."

I thought Brenda was saying this on purpose for me to hear, so I quickly promised, my hand over my heart, that I wouldn't abandon him and would stay by his side.

But Derek only got angrier hearing my words.

He pushed his wheelchair and started to leave.

"Just looking at you annoys me. Brenda, push me to the park for a walk!"

Brenda snorted, her nose practically in the air.

"With a daughter-in-law like you, my son will die of anger sooner or later!"

"This illness was probably caused by you!"

Then, with a bang, she slammed the door and left.




After they left, I finally noticed the dull ache in my palm.

I silently cleaned up the mess on the floor, my eyes burning.

I understood Derek. It was the cancer that had changed him.

I would stay with him until the very end.

When they returned that night, Derek was humming a tune. His mood was clearly much better.

I noticed a smear of grease at the corner of his mouth. I couldn't help but ask.

"Derek... did you go out? Did you eat something you weren't supposed to-?"

"Cassidy!" He exploded, cutting me off. "Mind your own business!"

"Is that what you want? For me to waste away until I'm nothing? I had?one?bite! One! And you're on me like a prison warden!"

I felt a little wronged.

When you're sick, you need to watch what you eat, especially with cancer.

Brenda impatiently pushed Derek into the bedroom.

"Alright, Derek only ate vegetables, nothing the doctor forbade."

"Hurry up and bring some water in for his foot bath!"

I tested the water temperature, and just as I put the basin down, he kicked it over.

Hot water splashed all over me.

"Cassidy, what are you doing?! My legs are weak, not numb?!"

"First you try to poison me with your cooking, now you want to scald me to death with a foot bath?!"

I changed the water five times.

Each time, he kicked it over.

My clothes were completely soaked.

He sneered, then flopped back onto the bed.

"Forget it, I'm not washing my feet. Just clean up the water in the room. It's too damp to sleep."

I stood rooted to the spot, clutching the cleaning rag, trying to calm my anger.

After cleaning everything up, Derek yelled again that he needed to use the restroom.

I went to help him up, but he pushed me to the floor with one hand.

"I'm a patient?! How much do you want me to walk?!"

"Didn't Brenda buy a bedpan? Bring it over for me to use!"

"My legs hurt, don't you understand?!"

Brenda rushed in, wiping away tears as she furiously berated me.

"Are you trying to break my son like this?"

"If you don't want to take care of him, then divorce him! So both of you don't suffer!"

As she spoke, she shoved a bedpan into my hands. A pungent, disgusting stench assaulted me.