Three Years, One Big Lie

I donated my kidney to save my fiancé's sister. For three years, I loved him, cared for her, and planned our future, never knowing the life I was building was a lie.

Then, a text from an unknown number arrived. It was a picture of a marriage certificate from two years ago. Groom: my fiancé, Dock. Bride: his "sister," Brianna.

He admitted it all when I confronted him. He was already married to her when he proposed to me. My love, my sacrifice, was just a way for her to get on his insurance to cover the transplant. He told me she was coming home from the hospital, and I needed to pack my things and leave.

Just hours before, my own doctor had called. The donation had put me at high risk, and now I had aggressive, terminal cancer.

As I drove away from the house we shared, my phone buzzed again. Pictures from Brianna. Them kissing on a beach. A positive pregnancy test. I had given them my health, my future, and my heart, and they had left me with nothing but a death sentence.

The world spun into a blur of headlights and screaming metal.

But when I opened my eyes again, I wasn't in the wreckage. I was in a hospital bed, a dull ache radiating from my side. The anesthetic from my kidney donation surgery was just wearing off. Through the door, my fiancé walked in, his face a perfect mask of concern. This time, I knew the truth.

Chapter 1

The crisp white envelope felt wrong in my hands. It wasn' t a bill, and it wasn' t junk mail. It was thick, expensive paper, the kind you use for invitations. But the address stopped my heart.

Mr. and Mrs. Dock Patterson.

I stared at the looping script, my own name, Gladys Vazquez, suddenly feeling foreign. We lived here. I lived here. Dock lived here. But there was no Mrs. Patterson. We were engaged. A long, three-year engagement, but engaged nonetheless.

My hand started to shake. This had to be a mistake. A typo. Some clueless person at a company we' d bought something from. I tried to reason it away, but a cold dread was already spreading through my chest.

A buzz from my phone on the counter broke the silence. An unknown number. A single message. I opened it, my fingers clumsy.

It was a picture. A marriage certificate from the Clark County Clerk' s Office in Nevada.

Groom: Dock Patterson.

Bride: Brianna Nguyen.

Date of marriage: Two years ago.

The world tilted. The kitchen floor seemed to drop out from under me. Brianna. Dock' s sick little sister. The sweet, frail girl I had cooked for, cared for, and ultimately, donated my kidney to. The sister whose life I had saved.

His wife.

The breath I was holding came out in a ragged gasp. The past three years weren' t an engagement. They were a lie. Every "I love you," every promise of a future, every shared laugh in this house-it was all a performance.

A sharp, familiar pain flared on my left side, right over the long, faded scar. It was a phantom ache, a reminder of the piece of me I had given away for a lie. My body knew before my mind could fully accept it. I was a fool. A selfless, stupid fool.

The phone rang, shattering the fragile quiet again. It was Dr. Morrow's office. I almost ignored it, but my training as a nurse kicked in. You always answer the doctor.

"Gladys? It' s Elwin." His voice was too gentle, too full of a careful sadness I recognized from delivering bad news myself. "We got the results from your latest scans."

I leaned against the counter, the cold marble a small, solid thing in a world that had just dissolved. "Okay."

"I need you to come in, Gladys. We need to talk about starting treatment immediately. It' s... it' s more aggressive than we thought."

Cancer. The diagnosis I' d been dreading was now just another layer of this nightmare. The kidney donation had put me at higher risk, and now the bill was coming due. I was sick, truly sick, and the man I had sacrificed my health for was married to someone else.

I ended the call, my mind numb. I had to talk to him. I had to hear him say it.

I sent him a text. "We need to talk. Tonight."

His reply was almost instant, cold and efficient. "Busy."

"Dock, please."

"I' ll be home late. Don' t wait up."

But I did wait. I cooked his favorite meal, the roast chicken with rosemary potatoes he always requested. The familiar actions were a comfort, a pathetic attempt to pretend this was just another Tuesday. The chicken sat on the counter, growing cold. The clock ticked past nine, then ten, then eleven.

Just after midnight, the front door opened. Dock walked in, not even glancing at the dining table. He loosened his tie, his movements weary and annoyed. He looked at me like I was a piece of furniture he' d forgotten was there.

"What is it, Gladys? I had a long day."

I stood there, the smell of cold chicken filling the room. I pointed to the letter still on the counter. "This came for you. For Mr. and Mrs. Patterson."

He didn' t even flinch. He just sighed, a long, tired sound of inconvenience. "So you know."

"Know? Dock, we' re engaged. I have a ring on my finger." My voice was a whisper.

He looked down at my hand, at the simple diamond he' d given me. "That was a mistake. I should have never done that."

"A mistake? Three years was a mistake?"

I stepped closer, my body trembling with a mixture of grief and rage. I wanted to scream, to hit him, to make him feel a fraction of the pain ripping through me. Instead, I reached for him, my hand landing on his arm. I just wanted to feel him, to find the man I thought I knew.

He jerked away like my touch burned him. "Don't, Gladys."

His voice was like ice. "It was always about Brianna. Her family... they helped me when I had nothing. I owed them. When she got sick, marrying me was the only way she could get on my insurance. The only way she could get a transplant."

My transplant. My kidney.

The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. It wasn't about saving his sister. It was about saving his wife. And I was the convenient, loving, naive nurse who was a perfect match.

"So you used me," I said, the words tasting like ash. "You let me love you, you let me give you a piece of my body, all for her."

I looked at the ring on my finger. It felt like a shackle. I unconsciously twisted it, the cold metal a stark contrast to the burning humiliation I felt.

"It wasn't supposed to get this complicated," he said, looking away, unable to meet my eyes.

"Complicated?" I let out a laugh, a broken, ugly sound. "My life is falling apart, Dock. I' m sick."

He frowned, a flicker of something-annoyance?-crossing his face. "Don't start with that, Gladys. Don't try to guilt me."

He thought this was a tactic. Another complication. He had no idea.

"Brianna is getting discharged next week," he continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "She' ll be moving in here. It' s time we made things official. Public."

He was kicking me out. After everything, he was throwing me away for the life he had built behind my back.

"I want a divorce," I said, the words strange and formal.

He looked at me, confused. "We're not married."

"We are," I said, my voice gaining a sliver of strength. "In every way that mattered to me, we were. And now I want out." It was the only thing I had left to take back. My intention. My love.

I felt a profound clarity. I had been living in a house without love, a relationship without a foundation. It was like I had been watering a plastic plant, waiting for it to bloom.

He scoffed, a dismissive, cruel sound. "Fine. Whatever you want to call it. Pack your things. I' ll have a check sent to you."

He thought he could pay me off. As if money could fill the hole he' d carved out of my life, my body, my very soul.

I didn' t say another word. I walked past him, grabbing my purse and my car keys. I had to get out. I had to breathe air that wasn' t thick with his lies.

I got into my car, the engine roaring to life in the silent garage. My hands shook on the steering wheel. Pain shot through my abdomen, sharp and insistent. My vision blurred with tears I refused to let fall.

As I pulled out onto the dark, empty street, my phone buzzed again. And again. And again. A rapid series of texts from that same unknown number.

A picture of Dock and Brianna kissing on a beach.

A picture of them holding hands, her head on his shoulder.

A picture of a positive pregnancy test. The final, brutal twist of the knife.

A wave of dizziness washed over me. The streetlights smeared into long, wet streaks. My foot slipped on the gas pedal. The world spun, a kaleidoscope of headlights and screaming metal.

There was a deafening crash. The sound of glass shattering, of metal twisting. A searing pain, and then... nothing.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt a strange sense of peace. The pain was gone. The betrayal was gone.

Finally, it was over.