My Love, Her Prize

Caleb Elliott and I have been young spouses. From meeting in college, to graduating and cramming into a ten-square-meter rented room eating steamed buns, to now living in a spacious flat downtown. Every step marked by the sweat we've shed together. After the company grew, he said he didn't want me to suffer anymore. "Katherine, stay home. Let me provide for us. You just kick back and enjoy life." So I stepped back from the spotlight, took up cooking, and became a full-time housewife. Supporting Vanessa Thomas was my idea at first. I found her information on the list of students in financial hardship: orphaned, living with her grandmother, and academically outstanding. I felt a surge of compassion. "Think of it as good karma," I told Caleb. He held me close and praised my kindness. At first, I sent the money as a regular monthly transfer. Later, Vanessa got accepted to a university in our city. She brought local specialties from her hometown to thank us—small and thin, with bright eyes, calling out "Mr. Elliott" and "Ms. Woods." After that, she began appearing in our lives with increasing frequency. "Mr. Elliott, our school is holding a lecture. Could you come and share your entrepreneurial experience with us?" I never gave it much thought, simply seeing her as a naive girl who needed care. Until that day. "Katherine, Vanessa's grandmother has been hospitalized. She's scared being alone, so I have to stay by her bedside. Can we postpone our wedding anniversary celebration to another day?" Over the phone, his voice was filled with apology, but more than that, urgency. I stared at the cold steak on the table and the candle halfway burned down. "Alright." That was the first time I gave in. Then came the second time. "Katherine, Vanessa needs me to guide her thesis topic, so I won't go with you to see your mother. I'll have the driver take you." On my mother's birthday, I carried the cake home alone. She asked me, "Where's Caleb? Is he busy at the company again?" I smiled and nodded, "Yes, he's busy." The third time was when I got sick myself. Persistent stomach pain, weight loss, and fatigue. I went to the hospital alone for tests, feeling somewhat anxious. While waiting for the results, I called him. "Caleb, I'm at the hospital. The results might not be good. Can you come?" The background noise is loud, with a girl crying. "Katherine, Vanessa suddenly has gastroenteritis and is in a lot of pain. I can't leave right now. You do the test first; I'll come over later." "Caleb, I—" "Beep... beep... beep..." The call was disconnected. I held my phone, standing beneath the hospital's cold light, my whole body trembling. The doctor called me in, his expression grave. "Miss Woods, please have a seat." "Your gastroscopy and pathology results are back." The doctor pushed up his glasses. "It's stomach cancer." A buzzing sensation hit my mind. "...What?" "Late-stage stomach cancer." The doctor slid the report toward me. "We need to arrange treatment immediately." The words "late-stage stomach cancer" pierced through my vision. I parted my lips but no sound came out. I don't know how long passed before I leaned against the wall and stood up, my legs trembling and weak. A young nurse came over to steady me. "Miss Woods, are you alright? Should I notify your family?" Family? I forced a smile, more bitter than tears. "No, thank you." Do I even have any family left? My father died young, and my mother was frail; telling her would only have cost her life. My husband is now with another woman. I came home in a daze. The key turned, and the moment the door opened, laughter drifted out. Under the warm yellow light, Caleb and Vanessa sat side by side at the dining table. Four dishes and a soup were laid out on the table, steam rising gently. Vanessa was serving Caleb food, her smile sweet. Caleb leaned in to listen to her speak, his expression soft and gentle. What a warm, intimate scene. Yet it churned a nauseous turmoil deep within my stomach. "Katherine? You're back!" Vanessa was the first to see me, her face showing a perfectly balanced surprise. Caleb put down his chopsticks, his brow furrowing slightly. "Why are you home so late? You look terrible." A faint, barely perceptible trace of displeasure laced his tone. I looked at him, the man I had loved for ten years, and suddenly he felt completely unfamiliar. "I went to the hospital." My voice was dry and hoarse. "I called you." He paused for a moment, then as if he suddenly remembered. "Oh, right... Vanessa had gastroenteritis last night and was restless all night. I have to take her for a follow-up today. Your... it's just a mild cold, right? Just take some medicine and rest." A mild cold. I suddenly felt like laughing. "Caleb, don't say that." Vanessa spoke softly, her eyes reddening in an instant. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't been sick, you could have gone with Katherine. Katherine, I'm sorry..." Caleb immediately patted the back of her hand, his voice full of sympathy. "It's not your fault; you're a patient too." He turned back to look at me, his eyes full of reproach. "Katherine, Vanessa specially made dinner for you. Look at you, coming home with such a sour face. It's not a big deal." Watching him defend someone else, the place in my heart that aches went utterly cold. I didn't say a word and turned away, heading upstairs. My steps felt light and hollow, each one like stepping on cotton. Back in the bedroom, tears silently streamed down my face. This world is so unfair to me. I'm not even thirty yet. I'm not ready to die. But it feels like no one cares anymore whether I am ready to die or not.