first love

It was year four of my marriage to Sean. The year his first love, Sarah, came back to the States, freshly divorced. It was also the year I found out I had cancer. Terminal. With less than six months left to live, I played the role of the perfect wife, right up until the end. And Sean, after reading the diary I left behind, completely fell apart.

1.

Holding the flimsy diagnosis, I stood outside the hospital, wanting to call Sean. I hovered over his contact, clicking in and out. Then his call popped up. His voice was as low and cool as ever, though it softened slightly when he said my name: "Anna, something came up at work. I won't be home for dinner, probably pretty late. Go to bed early."

The words caught in my throat. "...Okay."

My reply was as short as ever. The line went dead, but I still held the phone to my ear. The setting sun painted the sky a bloody red.

2.

Sean and I had been married for four years. I'd loved him for almost ten. I got lucky. Sean was under pressure from his family to settle down, going on blind date after blind date. He met me, decided I was decent enough, and we agreed to get married. Sean needed a wife, and I fit the bill. He was a cold person, quiet, reserved, rarely showing any emotion. I spent two years thawing that ice, until finally, it melted for me. We started to resemble a normal couple, navigating daily life, slowly building the life I’d always dreamed of. Only now, this dream, so recently realized, was shattering. Today, the doctor told me I had pancreatic cancer. I also knew that today was the day his "one that got away," Sarah, returned. That's why he rushed off the phone with me, to see the woman he’d never forgotten.

3.

I didn't eat. I waited for him in the living room for hours, until the deep night finally brought the sound of the front door opening, startling me from a restless doze. Sean closed the door carefully, his footsteps light. When the living room light flicked on, our eyes met. He paused, then frowned slightly. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"I fell asleep in the living room." I smiled at him. "I woke up when I heard you."

Sean just murmured, "Hmm," his face impassive. I took his coat. The scent of sandalwood mixed with gardenia, Sarah's favorite, hit me, making me nauseous. On the day I received a terminal diagnosis, my husband drove to the airport to pick up his first love.

4.

I should have asked him. But I opened my mouth, then closed it, saying nothing. I pretended nothing had happened. The next morning, I woke up early, as usual, to make Sean breakfast. Sean had a sensitive stomach. When it was bad, he'd been hospitalized for two weeks, and I'd stayed with him. The nurses and doctors all said he’d found a good wife. Sean sat in the hospital bed, looking tired, his gaze on me blank. When we were alone in the room, he said, "Hiring a nurse would have been the same." I paused, the peel of the apple I was cutting breaking. He seemed to notice and added, "You don't have to work so hard...