Chapter 3

I smiled, not denying it. "Yeah, not only did I go through a breakup, but I nearly died too. So, I figured it's time to live differently."

I shared my story. I kept my real name and the details hidden, but the truth stayed the same: three years as a understudy, left with nothing, and now facing a terminal illness.

The live chat started blowing up.

[Big hugs, Mona, that's so tough.] [Girl, run! Stay away from that jerk for your own good!] [Late-stage stomach cancer? Is that real? Stay strong, Mona!]

As I watched those warm words from strangers scroll past, my eyes got a little watery. Turns out, after letting go of the label of being Bruce's wife, I could still find genuine kindness.

When the stream ended, I got a few hundred bucks in tips. It wasn't much, but it was enough for a few decent meals and some medicine.

But more importantly, it felt like a faint breath of life was filling my withering body again.

I started streaming on a regular basis. Sometimes I'd share my cancer-fighting meals, sometimes I'd just chat while staring at the sea, and sometimes I'd read some obscure poetry. I wasn't looking for pity, but I never hid my illness. I recorded every painful round of chemo, and every stunning sunrise by the ocean.

My followers slowly grew from a few dozen, to thousands, then tens of thousands.

They called me Mona, the "Cancer Warrior," and said they found the strength to keep going in my channel.

Funny how things worked out. When I lost myself for a man, I ended up with nothing. But when I chose to live for myself, the world started shining its light on me.

Not sure how long this light would stick around.

But it was enough.

That day, after finishing my stream, I took some painkillers and got ready for bed. My phone lit up with a text from an unknown number. It was just one line:

"Mona Funk, you've got some nerve. Where did you run off to?"

It was Bruce.

He was actually trying to track me down.

I deleted the message and blocked the number.

But Bruce wasn't about to give up that easily. A few days later, while I was streaming, an account called "Searching for M" showed up in my chat. Without saying a word, they dropped ten of the most expensive "Space Ships" in a row.

The screen lit up with dazzling special effects.

The chat exploded.

[Holy crap! Big spender alert!] [Boss, you wild!] [Searching for M? Is that someone looking for Mona?]

My heart sank. I clicked on the account. It was brand new, no posts, and the profile picture was pitch black.

It had to be him. That signature way of throwing money around to get his way, classic Bruce.

I didn't thank him or respond at all. I just kept calmly sharing what the doctor told me today, pretending I hadn't seen a thing.

"Searching for M" spammed twenty more Space Ships in a row.

The chat blew up as people rushed in to catch the drama.

[Big spender alert!] [Mona, give a shoutout!] [Wait, is this your ex-husband? Is this one of those redemption arc stories?]

I turned off the tips.

The chat instantly went silent.

I smiled at the camera, though it never reached my eyes. "Thanks for all your support, everyone. But my stream isn't a place for people trying to buy my attention or disturb my peace with money. Catch you all next time."

Then I ended the stream.

My hands trembled, not out of fear, but from anger, and that sickening sense of having my boundaries violated all over again.

What gave him the right? After I finally vanished, he dared to pull this crap?

Soon, my new phone started ringing. It was that same blocked number, now calling from yet another one, relentless, refusing to let go.

I answered, not giving him a chance to speak, my voice icy, "Bruce, do you really think this is funny?"

He paused for two seconds, then his deep voice came through, weary and with a barely concealed frustration. "Mona, where are you?"

I shot back, "Why do you care? Shouldn't you be busy chasing after your dream girl and rekindling your old flame? Now you suddenly care about your ex-wife?"

"Mona!" His voice rose, that familiar pressure in his tone. "Stop this nonsense. Come home. Whatever you want, let's sit down and talk."

"Home?" I let out a bitter laugh, my stomach twisting in pain. "Bruce, you're way off. The moment you signed that divorce paper and ran straight to Athena, I lost my home. And as for talking? There's nothing left to say between us."

"Is this about Athena?" Bruce rushed out. "She's only crashing at my place for now. She had her own reasons for leaving back then, and she's going through a tough time right now. I..."