My Funeral, Her WeddingChapter 1
A week before I died, my wife, Emma’s first love, Liam, returned to the country.
That night, she didn’t come home.
The next day, I received her call.
“I’ve prepared the divorce papers. Come home and sign them.”
I coughed lightly before replying, “I’m in the hospital.”
Her voice was cold, sharp. “I don’t care where you are. Even if you’re on your deathbed, you need to come back and sign them.”
Calmly, I responded, “Alright.”
She didn’t know I truly was dying.
On the day of my funeral, my wife was busy marrying Liam. Later, she wore a pure white wedding dress and leaned against my tombstone, tears streaming down her face as she murmured, “If there’s a next life, I’ll still marry you.”
That day was her wedding day. It was also my funeral.
——
The doctor wanted me to stay in the hospital for observation. I refused.
I knew my body better than they did. My life was counting down and there was no reset button.
I didn’t want to spend my remaining days in a hospital bed.
When I returned home, Sophia was sitting on the sofa. Her gaze was cold and indifferent.
“Weren’t you in the hospital? You look like you’re in pretty good shape to me,” she said.
Summoning the last bit of strength, I walked to sit across from her. My voice was hoarse as I spoke.
“Where are the divorce papers?”
Sophia frowned, her tone growing colder.
“Where have you been loitering around? You look half-dead.”
I ignored her question and asked again for the divorce papers. I could feel my body failing and I didn’t want to collapse in front of her.
I didn’t want her to see me at my weakest.
“Hmph. Fine. Pretend all you want. Do you think acting pathetic will make me take you back?” she snapped. With a scornful grunt, she slapped the papers onto the table.
“Sign it!”
I didn’t even glance at the divorce papers. Instead, I looked directly at Sophia.
“This is my final gift to you,” I said.
I picked up the pen and carefully signed my name.
The moment I put the pen down, it felt like all my energy had drained away. I slumped weakly onto the table.
Sophia froze for a moment, then sneered, “Stop pretending. Do you think playing the victim will make me change my mind?”
“If you hadn’t forced my parents with your family’s influence, I would’ve married Ethan years ago and had a happy life,” she said. “You’ve been good to me all these years, sure. But that’s what you owed me.”
I forced a faint smile.