His Wedding, My Goodbye: I Was Dying, and He Never Knew

Evelyn Hart had traded five years of marriage for nothing more than the title of a "wife of obligation."

To fulfill the so-called "final wish" of his first love, Vanessa Cole, Adrian Quinn spoke with earnest sincerity on their wedding anniversary.

"Vanessa's wish is to have a wedding with me. So I'd like you to give the ceremonial address. You've always been the most understanding... you get me better than anyone. You'll say yes, won't you?"

Evelyn's grip on her phone tightened.

On the screen, her doctor's message confirmed the final arrangements for her brain cancer care, the words hitting her so hard her palm ached.

She looked up at Adrian, at the certainty in his eyes as he spoke, and something inside her suddenly went quiet.

A moment later, she heard herself speak, her voice calm and almost distant.

"Okay."

......

On their fifth wedding anniversary, Adrian handed Evelyn an exquisitely crafted wedding invitation.

Puzzled, she opened it, only for her blood to freeze the moment she saw the names printed on it.

Because she knew both the bride and groom all too well.

One was the man sitting across from her right now, the husband she had been legally married to for five years.

The other was his childhood sweetheart and savior-Vanessa.

Across the table, Adrian watched her uneasily, a barely noticeable trace of pleading in his eyes.

"You've worked hard these past five years. I've always been grateful for everything you've done. You took care of me, of this home... even Vanessa. You never complained."

After laying the groundwork, he took a deep breath and finally got to the point.

"Vanessa... the doctor said even if she wakes up, the damage from the accident has left her too weak. She might not make it past this spring. Her last wish is to wear a wedding dress just once... and have a wedding with me."

As if afraid Evelyn might misunderstand, he added quickly, "It's just symbolic. No legal marriage, nothing changes between us. I just... want her to leave without regrets."

As he spoke, he reached out and clasped her stiff hand on the table, sliding a thick wedding plan toward her.

His fingertips were cold, the chill seeping straight through her skin.

The plan detailed everything-venue, music, even the wedding favors-but the date was set just ten days later. This had clearly been arranged long ago, not some sudden decision.

"Evelyn, you've always been kind. You understand me better than anyone. You'll agree, won't you?"

Evelyn said nothing. She just stared at the two gold-embossed names side by side on the invitation.

Her mind dragged her back, unbidden, to what Adrian had said five years ago outside Vanessa's cold ICU room.

Back then, Adrian had been a mess-eyes red, voice hoarse beyond recognition.

"Evelyn, Vanessa got hit by that car because she was saving me. I love you, but I can't just abandon her... If you don't mind, let's get married. I promise, once she recovers, we'll live properly together."

At the time, Evelyn had just graduated and was working as a designer at a small company.

Some colleagues had bullied her for being new, stealing her project and even accusing her of plagiarism.

It was Adrian, then the client representative, who checked her original files and timestamps, spoke up for her, even praised her proposal, and extended an opportunity her way.

He probably didn't even remember it anymore.

But to Evelyn, it had been the first time anyone had ever stood up for her.

From that day on, she pushed herself, climbing higher step by step.

Three years later, she had finally earned the right to stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and say the words she had kept hidden for three years. "I like you."

She had looked into his pained eyes and asked, "Is it love, or responsibility?"

Adrian froze for a moment. After a pause, he lowered his head and said softly, "It's responsibility... Don't worry. What I promised you, I won't go back on it."

She believed him.

So Evelyn stayed by his side through the hardest days, believing his promise that once Vanessa recovered, they would finally live a proper life together.

That wait lasted five years.

Over those five years, she quit her job, managed the household for him, took care of his demanding parents, and even went to the hospital three times a week without fail to look after the comatose Vanessa in his place.

Adrian would often say, "Evelyn, we couldn't have held this family together without you."

She had once thought that was love. That it was acknowledgment.

But reality was cruel. It tore open the truth of those five years like a blade-she had never been a loved wife, only a "suitable" choice.

And now, she had become nothing more than someone helping them fulfill their wish.

"And... Vanessa said even if the wedding isn't real, she still hopes to have everyone's blessing. So I hope... you can give the ceremonial address."

Adrian looked at Evelyn, a trace of tension hidden in his eyes, but more than that, a certainty he had grown used to.

He was sure she would agree-just like every time before.

At that moment, her phone vibrated, breaking the suffocating silence. Evelyn opened it without a word. It was a confirmation form from her attending physician for a hospice care facility in Silverpine.

"The hospice care from Silverpine has received your information. If you decide to go, please confirm the details. Departure is in seven days."

Evelyn's grip on her phone tightened involuntarily.

A week ago, she had been diagnosed with a glioma.

Late stage.

The doctor said gently, "You likely have about three months left. If you choose hospice care, it may give you a little more time... but if there's anything you want to do, you should do it soon."

Clutching the diagnosis in her hand, she sat in the hospital corridor until sunset. Her first thought, absurdly enough, was who would make Adrian the soup he liked if she were gone, and who would go to the hospital to tend to Vanessa in her place.

At that thought, Evelyn let out a soft, mocking laugh and finally lifted her head.

There was no anger on her face as Adrian had expected, no hysterical questioning-there wasn't even a trace of sadness.

She heard herself speak, her voice calm and steady. "Okay."

Hearing her answer, Adrian let out a visible sigh of relief, his tense shoulders finally relaxing.

He leaned forward and pulled her into a firm hug across the table, his voice filled with gratitude and relief.

"Thank you, Evelyn. I knew it. You've always been the most understanding in this family."

Adrian let go of her, and whatever little guilt he had left disappeared completely.

He even began enthusiastically pointing at the plan, discussing the wedding details with her.

"The seaside venue might be windy. I should prepare a thicker shawl for Vanessa. For the entrance music, we'll use that piano piece she used to love playing. What do you think?" He spoke animatedly, as if this were truly a joyous occasion the two of them were sharing.

Evelyn sat there quietly, listening, nodding obediently from time to time.

Yet beneath the table, her fingers moved over her phone as she typed a brief confirmation into her chat with the doctor.

She found herself thinking that she probably wouldn't make it to Adrian's wedding.

Evelyn decided that, in the final countdown of her life, she would leave herself with a proper photograph.

The standard ones provided by funeral homes felt too stiff. She didn't like them.

She chose a well-reviewed private studio and booked an afternoon session.

But the moment she walked in, she saw Adrian and Vanessa inside-right in the middle of their pre-wedding shoot.

"Sir, hold your wife by the waist-yes! Look at each other!" The photographer stood nearby with the camera, enthusiastically directing, "Good, hold that pose! Now lean in and kiss your wife's forehead! Yes-like she's the most precious thing in the world!"

Adrian followed the instruction, lowering his head and placing a gentle, careful kiss on Vanessa's smooth forehead.

It suddenly came back to Evelyn-before Vanessa woke up, she and Adrian had been happy too.

Every morning before leaving, he would do the same-pressing a kiss to her forehead or cheek.

When she was exhausted from taking care of Vanessa, barely able to straighten her back, he would look up massage techniques online and joke that he was her personal therapist.

At the time, Adrian's company was going through a critical phase before going public, and Vanessa's medical expenses were a heavy burden.

So she always carried a quiet regret-no wedding, no wedding dress. She would stop and linger every time she passed a bridal shop.

And Adrian would wrap his arms around her from behind and promise, with absolute certainty, "Give it two more years. Whether Vanessa recovers or not, I'll give you the grandest wedding."

But all that sweetness, all those promises, disappeared the moment Vanessa woke up.

In the past, a moment like this would have hurt her.

But standing here now, watching the two of them wrapped in their own world, she felt... nothing. Not even a ripple.

She turned quietly, ready to leave.

"Evelyn?" A soft, delicate voice called out from behind her.

Evelyn paused mid-step. The music and shutter clicks in the studio fell silent.

She turned back to see Vanessa still leaning against Adrian as she called out to her.

Panic and awkwardness flashed across Adrian's face. He quickly let go of Vanessa's waist and stepped forward. "What are you doing here?"

Evelyn lifted her phone slightly. The confirmation message for her booking was still on the screen.

"I'm here for photos," she said calmly.

Vanessa looked her up and down-the simple dress, the empty space behind her. A flicker of understanding and mockery passed through her eyes, but her smile only grew sweeter.

"Evelyn, you're here for photos too? What a coincidence. Adrian and I are doing our wedding shoot-it's for the wedding. I told him it's just for formality, we didn't need to spend this much. But he said he doesn't want any regrets for our wedding."

She slipped her arm around Adrian's stiff arm and smiled, "Evelyn, since you're here, why not take a few photos with us?"

Her tone was innocent, but every word carried a hidden sting.

"Vanessa!" Adrian snapped, trying to stop her-but without much force.

He looked at Evelyn, his expression complicated-awkward, urging, and perhaps something else he didn't even realize himself.

What was he hoping for? Was he afraid Evelyn would make a scene?

Evelyn's gaze passed over Vanessa's smug expression and settled on Adrian's conflicted eyes.

The corner of her lips lifted slightly.

"No need." Her voice was calm, as if none of this had anything to do with her. "You go ahead. I wish you..."

She paused, her eyes brushing over the dazzling wedding dress and Adrian's white suit, then said softly, "a perfect wedding."

She didn't look at their changing expressions again. She turned and walked away.

Adrian instinctively stepped forward, but Vanessa grabbed his arm tightly. "Adrian, the photographer's still waiting... I'm getting cold..."

Evelyn walked out to the street. The sunlight was a little too bright.

A sudden warmth rose in her nose, and something hot began to run down.

Calmly, she took a tissue from her bag, wiped away the streak of red, and tossed it into a roadside bin.

After that day, Adrian began to sense that something was off.

Evelyn was too calm-so calm it unsettled him.

She no longer left a light on for him when he came home late, or kept a bowl of soup warm. She stopped updating him on every detail of Vanessa's care. Even when he brought up wedding preparations, she only listened, offering no opinion.

This silence unsettled him more than her old obedience ever had.

As if something, somewhere he couldn't see, was quietly breaking apart.

Driven by a mix of guilt and the urge to make things right, Adrian made a detour on his way home and bought the shop's signature strawberry matcha cake from a boutique bakery that was notoriously hard to book.

He remembered Vanessa liked it.

As for what Evelyn liked? He frowned, thinking for a moment, but came up with nothing.

She had always followed his preferences.

Maybe... she liked sweets too.

He pushed the cake toward her, his tone deliberately softened. "I brought this for you. About the studio the other day... I should've told you in advance. I just thought the wedding couldn't happen without photos of the bride and groom. I made the decision too quickly and didn't think about how you'd feel. That's on me. Don't take it to heart."

Evelyn looked at the delicate dessert-the strawberries bright red, the matcha a vivid green.

She didn't like sweets. And she hated the bitterness of matcha even more.

On her first birthday after they got married, he had brought home a Black Forest cake. She had forced herself to finish it, then spent the entire night sick, throwing up.

He had probably forgotten long ago.

"When the wedding with Vanessa is over," Adrian added when she didn't respond, "I'll take you to do a proper wedding shoot. Then we'll go on a trip. Didn't you always say you wanted to see the aurora? How about a destination wedding in Frosthaven?"

Evelyn's fingers trembled slightly.

The aurora.

It was a dream she had mentioned long ago, almost in passing.

And the wedding he had promised her...

He remembered.

Her pale lips parted, the words nearly slipping out-she might not have a future at all.

But his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at it, his expression changing slightly-it was the hospital caregiver.

He answered immediately, his voice tense. "What happened? Is Vanessa feeling unwell again? Alright, I'll be there right away!"

He hung up, grabbed his coat, and spoke quickly to Evelyn, "Vanessa has a slight fever and isn't stable. I need to go check on her. Make sure you eat the cake."

Before he finished speaking, he was already at the door.

So that was all he remembered.

"Adrian." Evelyn called out to him.

He turned back, frowning, one hand still on the doorknob, his whole posture impatient.

Evelyn looked at his face-so familiar, yet so distant-and at the concern in his eyes for another woman. The words caught in her throat.

Did he remember she hated sweets? Hated matcha?

If she were the one who was sick, would he stay?

She already knew the answer.

"Drive safe." In the end, that was all she said, her gaze lowered.

Adrian seemed taken aback for a second, as if he hadn't expected that. He gave a vague "mm" and hurried out the door.

The door shut, cutting off all sound. The room fell into a dead silence.

Evelyn slowly opened the cake box. The sweet scent hit her all at once.

She picked up the small plastic spoon, scooped a bite, and put it in her mouth.

As expected, it made her stomach turn.

She rushed to the bathroom and retched violently over the toilet, until what came up was nothing but murky fluid streaked with blood.

She braced herself against the sink, turning on the tap, watching the red fade and wash away.

In the mirror, her eyes were sunken, her body gaunt.

It didn't matter.

She thought.

Three more days. It would be over soon.