Chapter 4: Disbelief

A week passed, and Mortimer hadn't replied to the message or returned home. Chloe couldn't figure out what was going on with him and decided to stop thinking about it. Her nosebleeds became more frequent, and her hair was falling out in clumps.

The pain radiating from her bones made her turn to alcohol to numb herself, as if it had a numbing effect on her.

"Give me the strongest drink you have," Chloe said at the bar, her unfocused gaze landing on the men and women dancing on the floor.

Vibrant life, unbridled passion—these were things she should have too. The former had withered to its end, and the latter had all been given to Mortimer. Now, all that remained was a body that was rotting away.

Chloe forced a smile and drained her glass. Just as she was about to order another, she heard a familiar voice.

"Miss Ingram, are you really bent on self-destruction?" Osmond said solemnly. He had not expected to run into his patient while he was out.

Chloe was surprised. "Doctor, what are you doing here?"

Osmond looked at her coldly. In his eyes, Chloe was far from being a good person.

Chloe, perhaps due to the charged atmosphere or the effects of the alcohol, had lost her usual composure and began to speak her mind.

"I know you don't like me, and to be honest, I don't like myself this way either. But I hate, I'm so angry! I've been with my husband for nine years, and what happened? He has a child with another woman, and I'm dying from a disease. It's karma, isn't it? I didn't listen to the older generation's advice, and I foolishly believed in that damned thing called love. So, in a fit of anger, I asked for a divorce. Doctor, do you think I deserve to die?"

Osmond pursed his lips, not expecting to hear these things from her.

Chloe looked at him, her eyes filled with bitterness. "Doctor, I don't want to die. I don't want to face my deceased parents with this on my conscience. But I can't afford treatment. Do you understand? I'm not afraid of chemotherapy; I just can't afford it."

She leaned on the bar, unable to hold back her sobbing. Her once-established self-esteem had been shattered.

Osmond looked at the woman before him, his eyes dark. He took a deep breath and said, "There is always a solution to everything. Just tell me that you want to live."

...

Mortimer parked the car downstairs, thinking about the message Chloe had sent him, and he was furious. He couldn't believe that Chloe was so casual about asking for a divorce. Was it because he had gone too far in his affairs?

Mortimer opened the car window and took a deep drag of his cigarette. He was only seeking novelty, and he had never thought about leaving Chloe.

Far away, he saw the car lights flashing and stared in shock. In the front passenger seat of the approaching car was Chloe!

"Dr. Watkins, thank you for tonight," Chloe got out of the car and politely expressed her gratitude.

"You're welcome. Come to the hospital tomorrow, and I'll prescribe you some pain relief medication," Osmond smiled, something he rarely did, concealing his underlying compassion, before he turned and left.

Chloe watched the departing car, then turned to go upstairs. As she was about to do so, a pair of large hands grabbed her and slammed her against the wall.

Mortimer's eyes were bloodshot as he gritted his teeth and said, "Chloe, you're actually messing around with another man?"

Chloe, clutching her aching waist, endured the cold sweat and said, "That was a doctor, I'm not as good at playing around as you."

Mortimer froze, not expecting Chloe to sarcastically attack him. Overcome with anger and embarrassment, he lost his reason and shouted, "What, do you want to find another man to pose as a doctor to claim you have a terminal illness to cover up an affair?"

Tears suddenly streamed down Chloe's face. How had they come to this point of insulting each other?

"Mortimer, I do have leukemia," she said.