Chapter 2

I was jolted awake by pain in the early morning. It felt like someone was shredding my stomach with blades, my insides all messed up.

I sat up, poured out a handful of painkillers, and swallowed them dry, the taste of blood still hanging in the air.

The bitterness spread in my mouth, but the rusty taste kept creeping up my throat.

The doorbell rang. I thought it was someone from the body donation center coming to confirm the process. But when I opened the door, it was a bunch of movers.

Owen was at the back, holding onto Winnie, who had sunglasses on.

Winnie was wearing a white dress, looking fragile and speaking in a soft, whispery voice. "Sorry to wake you, Hazel."

Her voice sounded honeyed, but there was calculation behind every word. "Owen said the lighting here is perfect for my eyes, so I thought I'd move in for a few days. You don't mind, right?"

I stared at Owen. This was our marital home. I'd chosen every piece of furniture and every decoration. And now, he was letting another woman move in and throw me out.

"Owen, this is my home." I stood in the doorway, blocking the movers from coming in.

Owen frowned, clearly annoyed. "The document's got my name on it. Winnie's crashing here for a while. Once her eye surgery's done, she'll move out. Don't make such a fuss."

He thought I was making a fuss? I was dying, and my husband was letting another woman move in to recover. And I was supposed to step aside and be the bigger person?

"I'm not leaving." I clung to the doorframe, my nails digging deep into the wood, refusing to budge. "If I'm not dead, she's not coming in."

Winnie nervously hid behind Owen, looking genuinely frightened. "Owen, maybe we should forget it. Hazel seems really mad. I'll go stay at a hotel. Hotels aren't as clean or comfy as home, but I'll deal with it."

Owen patted her back with obvious tenderness.

But when he turned to me, his gaze went cold, resentment clear in his eyes. "Hazel, are you done making a scene? Winnie's eyes are messed up. She needs someone to take care of her.

"As my wife, you can't even bother to help, and now you're nitpicking about this? Do you have any compassion at all?"

Who had ever shown me any compassion? The tumor in my stomach was raging, the pain so intense that it left me soaked in cold sweat.

I looked at Owen, and suddenly felt utterly drained. "Owen, I'm sick, too. I'm in so much pain. Could you please not let her move in?"

This was my final desperate request. Even if I were dying, I wanted to die in my home.

Owen gave a mocking laugh. "Oh, you're sick now? What? Is it another deadly disease? Hazel, aren't you tired of crying wolf? Get out of my way."

He shoved me hard.

I was barely standing, and his push sent me crashing backward.

The sharp edge of the shoe cabinet jabbed into my lower back, a stabbing pain so bad that my vision went dark. I curled up on the floor, unable to move for ages.

Owen didn't even spare me a glance, barking orders at the movers as they hauled boxes inside. "Clear out the master bedroom for Winnie. And toss all that messy stuff. It's an eyesore."

All that messy stuff he wanted gone was my clothes, my skincare, and our wedding photos.

I lay there on the cold floor, watching as they erased every sign that I ever existed, bit by bit, like I was nothing but unwanted trash.

Winnie walked over and crouched down next to me.

She leaned in, her breath hot against my ear, voice barely more than a hiss. "Hazel, you've lost. Owen never loved you. It's always been me. You stole him for three years. Now, it's time you hand him back."

I stared at Winnie's smug, triumphant smile. Suddenly, I felt pathetic. I'd spent my whole life fighting, loving, holding on. And in the end, all I got was being tossed out like yesterday's trash.

"Winnie," I gritted my teeth against the pain and leaned in close to her ear. "Isn't it your dream to get new eyes? Don't worry. You'll have them soon enough."

Winnie was momentarily stunned, clearly not understanding what I meant.

I laughed, and tears slipped down my cheeks.

Owen always wanted to give Winnie the best. I would give her these eyes, the ones he never even cared to look at. And he would be the one to put my corneas in her.

So every time he saw her, he would remember me. Wasn't that the cruelest payback?