"What kind of soap opera is this? One acts like she's dying from gastritis, the other doesn't care about her wife undergoing chemotherapy, and you're still fighting over a hospital bed for your mistress? What a perfect match!"
"What?"
Shawn, taken aback, entered the room to find me receiving chemotherapy.
His hands trembled when he realized the gravity of the situation, and he struggled to find the right words.
"Sandra, why didn't you tell me about this?" he finally managed to say, crouching down beside me and taking my hand, a rare moment of tenderness.
"Sandra, I had no idea earlier. If you want to hit back, go ahead, but don't be upset," he murmured, regretting the earlier altercation.
Jennifer's expression shifted from hurt to innocence as she apologized with hidden joy, "I'm sorry, Sandra. We didn't know about your cancer."
Pointing towards the door, I coldly replied, "You know now? Then leave."
Shawn gestured for Jennifer to stay quiet, then spoke softly, "Sandra, fight this disease with all you've got. If our son sees you like this, it'll break his heart."
Amanda gave him a shove to the side.
"Son? You still remember you have a son?"