She Stole My Mother's Lifeline for Her First Love

My wife gave away the life-saving cancer medication I had moved heaven and earth to secure to her childhood sweetheart. While my mother was in the ICU battling terminal cancer as it metastasized, my wife posted on Instagram: "So grateful you're still breathing!" Meanwhile, my mother drew her very last breath. When I called her to come home and help arrange the funeral, she said: "The living matter more than the dead, Nathan. Chase is still in critical recovery." Sensing she had crossed a line, she quickly added: "Haven't you always wanted a baby? Once I'm back, we can finally have one." I replied flatly, "No need. Go have one with Chase instead." By the time Serena came home, my mother was already reduced to a small wooden urn. She cast a careless glance at my mother's portrait and actually bragged: "Babe, I saved a young life today!" I stood there in silence, my eyes freezing cold. In the past, whenever she returned from a night shift at the hospital and said those words, I would kiss her forehead with pride and tenderness, whispering how amazing she was. But this time, the life she saved was bought with my mother's death. During the days I spent handling the funeral alone, I asked myself over and over: I had devoted my entire life to Serena, but what had my mother ever received from me? Seeing my dead silence, she pouted. "Nathan! Aren't you proud of me? Don't you love me anymore?" My voice was chilled. "Where did you get that life-saving medicine, Dr. Foster?" Guilt flickered across her face for a split second before she replied self-righteously: "Looking at the bigger picture, saving a young life makes more sense than prolonging an elderly one!" My eyes burned red instantly. My mother had slaved away taking care of her for years, enduring excruciating agony in her final days, only to be reduced to a cold cost-benefit analysis! I slammed my hand against the table and roared, "Serena, that was my mother! There are dozens of patients and children in that hospital—why didn't you go save them instead?" Serena froze. She had never seen me lose my temper like this. Flustered, she stepped forward and tried to wrap her arms around me. I recoiled instinctively. Her hands were stained with my mother's blood. Her expression shifted slightly. "Babe, I know you're grieving. I understand family members who lose loved ones. But Mom was already sixty. Why waste a two-hundred-thousand-dollar targeted therapy on a lost cause?" Hearing her words, I realized just how callous this woman truly was. She was comforting me like any random patient's family member. My mother's death didn't cause a ripple in her heart. In her mind, Chase was the only one who truly mattered. Seeing how agitated I was, her voice finally softened. "Alright, alright. Haven't you always wanted a baby? I agree. Let's do it." Looking at her dismissive, patronizing attitude, my heart ached with disgust. "No need. I accepted an offer from a press agency. I'm leaving for a long-term field assignment soon." Serena's brow furrowed, irritation creeping back into her voice. "Nathan, what do you mean? When we got married, we agreed you would fully support my career! If you go on long trips, what happens to this home?" Home? Back when I won the most prestigious national photography award, job offers flooded in so fast my peers were green with envy. Yet, for Serena, I gave up a soaring career to become a stay-at-home husband, catering to her every need. And what did I get in return? Seeing that I wasn't responding, her voice grew louder. "The dead are gone! Do you really have to torment the living like this?" I fought down the rage clawing at my throat and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. "Dr. Foster, the medication Chase used was paid for with my money. Two hundred thousand dollars. When are you paying me back?" Serena looked at me in utter disbelief. "Nathan, you're talking to me about money? Now I see it. Money matters more to you than I do!" I kept smoking, staring right through her. Tears welled up in her eyes at last. "Babe, I was wrong this time, okay? I apologize."In all our years of marriage, this was the first time Serena had ever apologized to me. In the past, a single tear from her would tear my heart in two. I would have moved heaven and earth to make her smile. Now, I felt nothing. Not a single spark. Serena reached out cautiously to take my arm. Seeing that I didn't pull away, a faint smile returned to her lips. "Babe, let me explain. When I was a kid, my parents were always too busy to care for me. I spent half my childhood eating dinner at the Vance house. They treated me like family. Shouldn't I repay that kindness?" Repay them? With my mother's life! I sneered. "If they were so wonderful, why didn't you just marry him?" To my surprise, she actually sighed. "You know how hectic a surgeon's schedule is. His mom didn't want a daughter-in-law who couldn't prioritize the household." Hearing her casual complaint made my blood boil. Because of her hectic job, my mother had packed up and moved in with us, cooking and cleaning without a single complaint. Whenever I took freelance gigs at home, my mother—who didn't know how to drive—would take the subway and two connecting buses just to bring Serena a warm lunch. If any chore wasn't done to Serena's liking, she would throw a tantrum. And my mother would always soothe me: "Nathan, Serena has a stressful job. It's normal for her to be on edge. We need to be more understanding." The memory brought bitter tears to my eyes. Seeing me cry, Serena looked at me with self-satisfied tenderness. "Babe, next month I’ll apply to transfer to an outpatient clinic. Less stress. Then we can have a baby." I dropped the cigarette butt onto the floor and crushed it beneath my shoe. "Since your schedule won't be so crazy anymore, I'm sure Chase's mom will gladly accept you. Go have his babies instead." Serena looked hurt. "Nathan, how could you say that? I'm heartbroken over Mom too! Do you have to blame everything on me? If I really walk out that door, you won't be able to win me back!" I had no intention of arguing. Dropping a cold "Remember to pay me back," I grabbed my coat and walked out into the night. I met a few close friends at a bar and drank until the early hours. Serena kept calling, but I put my phone on silent. "Damn, Nathan, it's been ages! We never thought you'd come out tonight!" I downed my drink and offered a wry smile. "I was foolish before. But I'm stepping back behind the lens. Hope you guys still have room for me in the industry." "Are you kidding? You're a legend!" "Yeah, I heard you even auctioned off your award-winning prints to pay for your mom's treatment. You used to treat those prints like gold. Even though she passed, she'd be so proud of your devotion." Their words felt like acid poured over raw flesh. I poured myself another drink, then another. Assuming I was just grieving, my buddies comforted me and kept the mood light with industry gossip. A little later, my best friend Zack handed me his vibrating phone with a teasing grin. "Bro, didn't you get permission from the wifey? She's blowing up my phone right now!" The table erupted into laughter. Not wanting to put Zack on the spot, I took the call. The moment Serena heard my slurred voice, disgust laced her tone. "Nathan, throw your tantrum, but know when to stop!” “ You think getting wasted is going to piss me off? We have a rule: if you're not home by midnight, the door stays locked. I was actually going to make an exception for you tonight!" My head was spinning, my stomach churning. "Serena, you flatter yourself. I only drank tonight because I finally picked up my camera again. I'm celebrating." Then, in a daze, I added, "Lock the door. I wasn't planning on coming back anyway." Serena shrieked into the receiver. "Nathan Miller! Don't push your luck! I swallowed my pride to invite you home! Does this marriage mean less to you than two hundred grand?"I scoffed. She actually thought she was doing me a favor by "humoring" me. And that I was only mad about the money. In her eyes, my mother's life was worthless, while Chase's was beyond price. "Don't work yourself up," I replied evenly. "Just make sure Chase pays me back before we sign the divorce papers." Silence fell over the line. Around the table, my friends went dead quiet too. Zack slid a cigarette toward me, frowning. "Nathan... marriage is full of rough patches. You're just raw from losing your mom. Don't make a reckless decision you'll regret." I inhaled deeply, letting out a bitter chuckle. Reckless? The time Serena abandoned me while I had a 104-degree fever just to celebrate Chase's birthday... the pair of shoes two sizes too small she bought me without a care... the signs had been there all along. It took my mother's life to finally wake me up. How could I dare fall back asleep? The next morning, I timed my return to when Serena should have been at work. To my surprise, she was still sitting on the couch. Noticing my surprise, she ignored her obvious fatigue and offered a gentle smile. "Babe, I took the day off. I'm going to spend the whole day with you." "No need," I said coldly. "I'm just here to grab a few things." I had always loved traveling. My dream was to capture every corner of the world through my lens. I once begged Serena to see the world with me, but she was always too busy—busy with shifts, and later, busy nursing a sick Chase. "Babe, stop fighting with me, please. You know my work requires laser focus. If you keep picking fights, I might get distracted in the OR." Me? Picking fights? I didn't even have the energy to argue anymore. I headed straight for the bedroom. Serena scrambled after me, pulling two photography exhibition passes from her pocket and holding them out like a peace offering. "Let's go together tonight. You've always loved these exhibits, right?" A shock ran through me. I hadn't expected her to suggest this. I had begged her countless times in the past, only for her to sneer: "What's the point of looking at still pictures? They don't even move." "I already have plans tonight. I'm busy." Before Serena could lose her temper, her phone chimed loudly. An anxious woman's voice burst through the speaker: "Serena, please come over! Chase won't take his meds unless you're here!" Serena looked at me, torn. After a brief hesitation, she shoved the tickets into my hand. "Nathan, wait for me at home. I'll be right back, and then we'll go together!" Watching her rush out the door, a wave of bitter irony washed over me—mocking her, and mocking my former self. I stuffed the tickets carelessly into my pocket, grabbed my portfolio, and walked out. Clara, my new photojournalist partner, was already waiting for me at the café. Her hair was pulled back into a crisp high ponytail. Her sun-kissed skin from years in the field only accentuated her sharp, striking features. "Nathan? It's an honor to partner with an award-winning master." Clara handed me a flash drive. "Here's the project brief for our shoot in the East African savannah. Take your time looking it over." Then a flicker of hesitation crossed her face. "The assignment is quite long, though. Is your wife okay with it?" "She doesn't need to be," I answered calmly. "She won't have any say over my life soon." Clara was smart. She didn't pry, simply raising her iced coffee in a toast to freedom. A text from Serena buzzed on my phone: "Babe, I'm so sorry. An emergency came up at the hospital. I can't make the exhibit tonight. I promise I'll go with you next time!" A few minutes later, Chase updated his Instagram. It was a photo of Serena leaning over his hospital bed, blowing on a spoonful of hot broth. Caption: "Blessed to have you by my side." I let out a quiet laugh, looked up at Clara, and said: "I have two tickets to a photo exhibit tonight. Care to join?"