Chapter 1 - Four Hours Cancer-Free"Say that again."
Dr. Okafor smiled at me from across his desk. "The scans show no evidence of disease, Monique."
I stared straight at him. "No. The other part."
Beside me, my husband Xavier sat with both hands pressed tight between his knees. Dr. Okafor understood exactly what I meant. "Right now, we see absolutely no evidence of cancer anywhere."
A laugh escaped out of me, but it broke apart into a sob somewhere halfway through. I covered my own mouth with one hand.
For eleven straight months, cancer had controlled every single part of our shared life together.
Xavier had stopped working entirely during his treatment. I picked up night shifts, grabbed every extra hour I could manage, drove him to countless appointments, carefully measured out his pills, and taught myself how to sleep in tiny, scattered intervals whenever I actually could. Some mornings I'd sit in our own driveway after finishing a shift, simply because I was too exhausted to remember exactly why I'd driven myself home.
Xavier used to squeeze my hand and promise, "Once this is finally over, I'll spend the rest of my entire life making it up to you properly."
I never once actually wanted repayment from him. I simply wanted him alive. And now, finally, he was.
I turned toward him in that office. "Xavier."
He looked over at me. "You heard him say that, right?"
"I heard him."
No smile crossed his face. No tears welled up. No hand reached across the small gap toward mine. I told myself, quickly, that he was simply overwhelmed by the good news.
Dr. Okafor walked us through Xavier's follow-up care plan while I carefully wrote everything down. Lists had genuinely become my favorite form of quiet panic management. If I could get something written down on paper, I could pretend it was fully under control.
Dr. Okafor eventually stood. "I'll give the two of you a private minute. The nurse will bring the final forms shortly." The door clicked shut behind him.
I pulled the scattered paperwork into one neat stack. "Okay," I said. "You sign this particular one. I think this other one's actually mine to sign."
Xavier didn't move an inch. "I'm calling in sick this Saturday," I added, trying to lighten the mood. That finally got his attention. "You never once call in sick."
"Exactly right. We're celebrating irresponsibly for once. I'll cook something nice."
"Don't," he said quietly.
I stopped mid-motion. "Don't what, exactly?"
"Monique."
Something buried in his own voice made me set the pen down carefully. He looked directly at me. "I want a divorce."
I focused hard on the papers instead, straightening one crooked page unnecessarily. "You need to sign the follow-up sheet first."
"Monique."
"And we should probably put the next scan date into both our phones," I continued, deflecting.
"Did you actually hear what I just said?"
I set the pen down flat on top of the stack. "You've been cancer-free for roughly four hours total."
"I know that."
"Then maybe wait until dinner, at least, before you ruin my entire life."
His face tightened visibly. "I'm being completely serious right now."
I searched his expression desperately for something I could actually fix. "What happened, Xavier?"
"Nothing happened."
"Then tell me exactly why."
"My decision is already final."
"That's genuinely interesting, considering I distinctly remember there being two people involved in our marriage."
"I'll get my things packed out tonight."
That particular line hurt considerably more than the actual word divorce had. He'd already been planning his exit from this, apparently, well in advance. "Why, though?" I pressed.
He looked away from me entirely. I stood up fast. "No. Don't you dare do that. You don't get to simply drop this on me and stare blankly at the wall instead. Why, Xavier?"
"I'm sorry, Monique. Genuinely sorry."
I laughed once, sharp and humorless. "You're sorry?"
"I've waited long enough for this."
Then he simply walked straight out of the room. I didn't follow him. For once in my entire life, I didn't try fixing a single thing. I sat there instead until the words printed on the paperwork blurred together completely in front of me.
"Monique?" I looked up. Dr. Okafor stood in the doorway. "Is he actually gone?" I asked.
"Yes. He asked reception to call him a taxi."
I wiped roughly at my own cheek with one sleeve. "Did you already know about this?"
"Know what, exactly?"
"That my husband was apparently waiting to beat cancer, purely so he could finally leave me afterward."
Dr. Okafor pulled a chair closer to mine and hesitated a moment. "There's actually something you should probably know."
My whole body went rigid. "What is it?"
"Xavier gave me permission several weeks back, to tell you something specific, if he ever actually followed through with leaving."
"He planned this out with you?"
"No, not exactly. But he was genuinely afraid you'd stayed with him purely because you felt responsible for his condition."
"Responsible?"
"He worried that being seriously sick had made it genuinely impossible for you to actually leave him, even if you wanted to."
Anger rose fast and hot inside me. "I worked night shifts. I drove him here half asleep on my feet. I sat beside him when he couldn't even manage standing up on his own. And he genuinely believed that was simple pity?"
Dr. Okafor held my gaze steady. "Why exactly he believes that is genuinely something Xavier needs to explain to you himself."
Something cold moved through me right then, because suddenly I remembered an old email, a forgotten appointment, and one particular night I'd worked genuinely hard to forget entirely.
May you like
I grabbed my purse fast. "Monique. You don't actually have to solve this tonight."
I very nearly smiled at that. He genuinely had no idea who exactly he was talking to. "I know," I said simply. Then I drove straight home to solve it anyway.
