I had lost everything. My husband. My child. My parents. I had been replaced in every role that mattered.
Why wasn’t I enough? Why was I the one breaking while they got to move on and be happy? Why!
My head throbbed violently, pain mixing with the ache in my chest until I couldn’t tell which one hurt more. I stayed there curled on the floor for a long time before I reached for my phone with shaking hands.
There was only one person left.
The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered. “Miya?”
I broke. “Lancelot… please,” I sobbed. “I need help. I can’t stay here anymore.”
His breath caught. “What happened? Tell me everything.”
“Gusion,” I whispered. “Nana. They don’t need me. They already replaced me. I don’t have anything left.”
“Miya,” he said firmly, grounding me with his voice, “you still have me. And I’m not letting you face this alone. Not now, not ever.”
Tears streamed down my face as he continued. “Come to me. I’ll get you out of that house. I’ll make sure you disappear if that’s what you need.”
Then he hesitated, his tone softening. “There’s something else you need to know. I didn’t want to tell you like this.”
“What?” I asked, wiping my face.
“Our hospital is starting a clinical trial,” he said carefully. “A new treatment for brain cancer. It’s risky, but it might actually work. It’s your best shot.”
My whole body went still. “You… you knew?”
“I suspected,” he admitted. “I saw your records. I knew you were fighting this by yourself.”
My chest hurt in a different way then. Not sharp. Just heavy.
“Come to me,” he said gently. “Let me help you. With the treatment. With leaving. With everything.”
I gripped the phone, my heart racing. For the first time in a long while, there was a door open in front of me.
“I’m coming,” I said quietly. “I’m coming, Lancelot.”
The house was silent. Not peaceful silence. The kind that screams at you.
Gusion, Hanabi, and Nana were gone. They had moved into their new mansion, the kind you see in magazines, all glass and light and promise. A place full of laughter and plans and a future that didn’t include me. They left like I was already erased.
It should have destroyed me. Maybe part of me did break. But sitting alone in that empty living room, staring at the divorce papers I rewrote myself, something cold settled in my chest.