Sacrificed My Kidney, Buried His Heart

Synopsis

As I was scrolling through an anonymous help post, coffee suddenly splashed onto my hand, leaving a glaring red burn. The post's title was: "How can I get my wife to willingly donate a kidney to the college girl I'm sugar-daddying?" The post went into detail, saying his wife was gentle and thoughtful, comes from money, and they'd been college classmates married for five years. The college girl, bubbly and cute, was diagnosed with kidney failure and desperately needed a transplant. He loved her and couldn't bear to lose her. And the most crucial thing was that his wife and the girl's blood types were a perfect match for the transplant, like some kind of miracle. Every word felt like a scalpel, slicing through my marriage, one cut at a time. My name is Jennie, and my husband is Kevin. We'd been married for five years, and we were college classmates. And I had just found out that my blood type was the rare Rh-negative. As I scrolled down, a top-voted comment jumped out at me: "Easy. Just pay to fake a medical report saying your wife has kidney failure. Then have your girlfriend play the saint and volunteer to donate a kidney. Once your wife is completely overwhelmed, manufacture a little 'accident', like your girlfriend suddenly can't donate, or there's a minor issue with the match. In the end, it'll be perfectly reasonable to suggest your wife's kidney is actually fine, and she should 'repay the favor' by donating to your girlfriend. One for one, fair exchange. She'll be so grateful, she won't even suspect a thing." I stared at those words and smiled. My pale, smiling face was reflected on the phone screen. Then I hit the like button.