Before I Turn to Dust

Julian and I had been married for seven years. To everyone who knew us, we were the definition of true love. His devotion to me was legendary in our circle. Until the woman he kept on the side answered his phone. Only then did I realize that every single person around me had been keeping me in the dark. Devastated, I demanded a divorce. Julian only sneered coldly. "In the Vance family, there's no such thing as divorce. Only widowhood." What he didn’t know was... I was genuinely running out of time to live. Walking out of the hospital, the oncologist’s words still echoed in my ears. "Your cancer has progressed to the terminal stage. Even aggressive hospitalization won't change the outcome much..." "How much time do I have left?" "Six months. At best." The lab reports crumpled in my trembling hand. I pulled out my phone and dialed Julian first. In our seven years of marriage, his tenderness toward me had been undeniable. He was infamous among our peers as the hopelessly devoted husband. I was terrified he would fall apart if he heard this news. Yet right now, like a drowning woman, I just desperately needed to grab the only lifeline I had left. The line rang for over a dozen seconds. Julian's singing voice drifted through the speaker, faint and distant. He wasn't the one who picked up. I held my breath, drowning in silence. "Who is this?" I asked. "If you want to know, come to The Abyss, Lounge 403." A woman's voice. Then, she hung up. I looked up at the evening sky. The sunset burned a blinding, blood-red glow, but my body wouldn't stop shaking. Following her directions, I arrived at the exclusive club. Lounge 403 had been Julian’s private suite since our college days. He was always the wealthy playboy who practically owned places like this. The heavy door wasn't fully latched. Peeking through the crack, I saw the man sitting dead center on the velvet couch. It was Julian. Curled up in his arms was a young girl, snuggling against his chest like a pampered kitten. It felt so foreign that the air was sucked straight from my lungs. With trembling fingers, I sent him a text. "Where are you, Julian?" A minute later, his reply popped up. "Still at the office, babe. I’ll be home soon." Just then, a burst of drunken laughter erupted from the men inside the room. "Bro, is your wifey checking your leash again?" "What do you know?" Julian laughed lazily. "I like letting her keep me on a leash." "Right on! There's a big difference between letting her manage you and actually being whipped. Julian knows exactly how to keep his home life separate from his fun outside!" Hearing that, Julian reached down and stroked the girl's silky hair. Just behind me, a cocktail server approached and pushed the door open. Someone spotted me first. In a heartbeat, every pair of eyes shifted toward the doorway. The room fell dead silent. Julian immediately shoved the girl away, rose to his feet, and walked toward me. I raised my hand and slapped him across the face with everything I had. A crisp crack echoed. A bright red handprint bloomed on his pale cheek. "Having fun?" I choked out. "No, I’m not. Let's go home, babe. I'll make your favorite honey-glazed ribs." He reached out, grabbing my hand firmly in his grasp. As he pulled me toward the exit, a drunk guy behind us sneered, "Nora, cut the damn drama! Julian’s rich, gorgeous, and stayed faithful to you for years. You should be counting your blessings!" Before I could react, Julian spun around, grabbed a champagne bottle from a passing cart, and smashed it over the guy's head. Glass shattered everywhere. "If I ever hear you disrespect my wife again, you won't walk out of here alive!" he snarled. Even now, he was still playing the devoted protector. On the drive home, Julian confessed without hesitation. Her name was Maya. He had met her during a business trip. She was working at a dive bar, getting harassed by some local thugs, and he played the hero. She had been by his side ever since. I gripped the passenger door handle as bile rose in my throat. "Did everyone else know about her?" "..." "Did they?!" "Yes," Julian said, his jaw tightening.I let out a ragged laugh, hot tears streaming down my face. Everyone knew. I was the only pathetic fool kept in the dark! "Nora, please..." "How long have you two been together?" "Three years." I jerked my head toward him in horror. My eyes caught a blue tassel hanging from the rearview mirror. It had appeared two weeks ago. When I asked, he brushed it off, saying he bought it on a whim. Now I knew Maya bought it. If her trinket was hanging in this car, did that mean she had ridden in this very seat? Was she laughing right here where I sat? Nausea hit me like a freight train. I clutched my mouth. "Pull over. Let me out." "Babe, can we please just talk at home?" "Pull over! Stop the car! Let me out right now!" I slammed my fists against the window, sobbing uncontrollably. I was terrified I would throw up all over myself. Or worse, that I wouldn't be able to stop my hands from jerking the steering wheel to end both our lives right then and there. Julian didn't let me out. Once we stepped inside our house, I stopped crying. Julian went straight to the kitchen and cooked an entire spread of my favorite dishes. I sat across from him without touching a fork. He looked at me with soft, affectionate eyes. "Nora, I promise I'll end it cleanly. Maya was just a distraction. She can't hold a candle to you." He placed a piece of glazed meat onto my plate. "Whatever you do, don't starve yourself." I stared at him with venom in my eyes. "I'm not eating that. It disgusts me." Who knew how many times he had cooked those exact dishes for Maya? Julian's face went completely pale. He stood up. "Fine. What do you want? I'll have the staff order from any five-star restaurant you like." Afterward, Julian went upstairs to shower. By this point, he seemed disturbingly composed. He clearly didn't think he had done anything unforgivable; in fact, he probably thought I was blowing things out of proportion. When he walked out of the bathroom smelling fresh and clean, he tried to wrap his arms around me. "Babe, don't stay mad. She’s not worth it." I pulled back sharply and spat out each syllable: "Shower again." He blinked, taken aback, but complied and went back under the water. After doing this three times in a row, Julian finally snapped. "How many times do you want me to scrub?!" he roared. "I slept with Maya! It happened! Scrubbing a hundred times won't change that!" I looked at him. His chest was raw and red from the scalding water and coarse sponge. No matter how many times he scrubbed, Julian would never again be the boy who held me in his arms and swore he would cherish me for the rest of his life. He walked out. In our seven years of marriage, outside of business travel, this was the first night he ever slept somewhere else. The massive king-sized bed felt icy and hollow. I sat at the edge until dawn broke. When I unlocked my phone, a celebrity gossip headline caught my eye: "[Billionaire Heir Julian Vance Spotted Setting Off Fireworks with Mystery Brunette]" In the pictures, Maya leaned adorably into Julian’s embrace. The glow of the fireworks illuminated her youthful, glowing face. It captured everything I was rapidly losing—youth, beauty, and health. Julian was punishing me for my reaction last night. Once something is tainted, no amount of washing can ever make it clean again. I pulled the medical diagnosis from my purse, hailed a cab, and headed to my mother's house. Even though she had remarried years ago and built a whole new family with her husband and golden son. Even though in her eyes, I was just a useless daughter who could never match up to my younger brother. A mother was still a mother. When a child is broken and hurting, where else can she run to?My twenty-five-year-old brother, Tyler, opened the door. The moment he saw me, he scowled. "What are you doing here?" Without answering, I brushed past him into the living room. My mother was sitting on the sofa. When our eyes met, she looked away guiltily. I reached into my bag, wanting to tell her I was sick. Dying people always desperately grasp for any shred of maternal warmth. "So, you found out?" she asked before I could speak. My hands froze. "Nora, listen to me. Just turn a blind eye," my mom said nonchalantly. "You know how good Julian has been to you. Men are wired to cheat. Even your deadbeat father did it, so what do you expect from someone as rich as Julian?" "Don't say I'm not on your side. I'm telling you this "because" I care about you. Remember all the debt our family owed? Julian paid it all off. He bought Tyler's house, bought his car, and paid for his wedding. We owe that man everything." My ears began to ring. Without sound, it looked like a loving mother giving gentle advice. With the sound turned on, every word felt like a poisoned dagger thrust into my chest. "Mom... you're my mother..." Her brow furrowed in annoyance. Tyler chimed in from the side, sneering, "Get over yourself! What man doesn't want a younger girl? You marrying Julian was pure luck for our family. You really think you're his one and only? If you get divorced, there's a whole line of gorgeous girls waiting to take your place!" "What gives you the right to talk to me like that?!" I screamed back. My mother’s voice instantly rose, louder and harsher. "Your brother isn't wrong! I’m looking out for your future! If you divorce him, where the hell are you going to find another man as generous as Julian?!" "What if I'm dying?!" I shouted. A sharp slap cracked across my face. The sting burned my cheek, matching the venom in her glare. "I tell you to keep your marriage together, and you threaten me with death?! Fine! If you're really going to die, divorce him first and leave all your assets to your brother! Consider it paying me back for raising you!" For a split second, I flashed back to my senior year of high school. My mother had beaten me with a wooden broom, calling me a worthless burden. I had fled into the street, bruised and crying, straight into Julian’s arms. Without a word, Julian bought a knife from a convenience store and stormed right into my house. "If you ever touch Nora again, I swear to God I'll end your precious son!" The eighteen-year-old boy looked wild and terrifying. But in the darkest corner of my life, he was my only light. When I returned home that evening, Julian was sitting on the living room sofa, his long legs crossed. Moonlight poured over his sharp, tailored frame—a handsome monster. My heart felt completely numb. I ignored him and started up the stairs. Suddenly, his hand gripped my wrist. Ignoring my struggles, he shoved me down onto the sofa. The heavy scent of expensive scotch washed over me. His cold hands slithered over my skin like a serpent. I fought against him, but he pinned both of my wrists above my head. Helpless, suffocating disgust ripped a scream from my throat. "Julian, let go of me! Don't touch me!" "You're my lawful wife! Why the hell shouldn't I touch you?!" Nausea surged in my gut. I dry-heaved violently. I hadn't eaten all day; there was nothing left to throw up. Julian leaned down, his eyes dark with resentment. "You act like I disgust you, Nora. But tell me... are you really that clean yourself?!" The room fell silent. I froze, staring blankly up at him as the last ember in my soul died out. Julian was right. Was I ever clean to begin with?