Slapped on Our Anniversary - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Mom spent every waking moment praying for Dad, her heart clinging to the fragile hope that the man she loved might somehow recover.
I understood Dad's words perfectly.
But I knew my own heart even better.
The truth was, the medical bills were just an excuse. Every day away from Ethan, I ached to run back to him. It was love—reckless, desperate love—that dragged me back to his side, clinging to that tiny shred of hope.
My mind kept circling the same torturous thoughts: What if I never developed the disease? What if I'd left him when the symptoms started? At least then we'd have had more happy memories instead of these endless, lonely nights where all I did was miss him...
But life had other plans.
What waited for me wasn't love—it was hatred so deep it chilled my bones.
Not happiness, but a nightmare that left me gasping for air...
"Shhh... Don't cry."
"It's over now. All of it."
Whatever we once had, whatever love might've survived life and death... it was gone.
My body failed faster than I'd expected.
Winter barely arrived before I became too weak to work, too weak to repay Adam for the medicine. When he realized I'd rather die than owe him, he snapped.
"You think taking my medicine puts you in my debt? We grew up together, Rachel. Letting me watch you die—that's the real debt. One I'll never be able to repay."
He was right. Some debts aren't measured in money, but in guilt and grief. If I died refusing his help, I'd leave him with a wound that never healed.
When I stayed silent, Adam's voice turned firm. "Fine. Tonight, we eat like kings. Tomorrow, you check into the hospital. Even if we can't fix this, we'll make sure you're not in pain."
I wiped my tears and nodded.
Maybe it was knowing this might be my last free night, but I ate more than usual—then choked. Adam was at my side in an instant, patting my back gently.
Then, out of nowhere, a familiar figure stormed in, yanking Adam away by his collar.
"Rachel Wilson!"
Ethan's voice was raw, his face gaunt with exhaustion. "So this is why you wouldn't come back? You'd rather spend your last days with him?"
I stared, stunned. "...Why are you here?"
"Why?!" He let out a broken laugh, eyes bloodshot. "I've spent over a month tearing this city apart for you. Haven't slept. Haven't lived. And you ask me why?" His jaw clenched. "We loved each other, Rachel. How could you be this cruel? Compared to you, I was too damn soft for seven years—"
"Enough!" Adam cut in, shoving Ethan back. "You don't get to talk to her like that. You have no idea how much she's loved you—how much she's suffered for you!"
Something in Adam's tone made Ethan freeze mid-swing.
If they were rivals, Adam wouldn't defend me like this.
Ethan's voice dropped, rough with dread. "...What do you mean?"
Before I could stop him, Adam spat it out: "Rachel knew ten years ago this disease would hit her. She left you to spare you, not because of money."
That night, Ethan finally learned the truth.
The anger drained from his face, replaced by horror, guilt—and fear. I watched it hit him: all the girls he'd brought home, all the ways he'd hurt me. His whole body shook, lips parted but no words coming out.
I was too tired to care what he was thinking.
"Don't bother feeling guilty," I said flatly. "I lied. I left. Then I took your money to come back. We've both hurt each other. Call it even."
As I turned to leave, I threw one last line over my shoulder:
"Don't come near me again."