He Fell in Love After I Got Cancer
Chapter 3
– Blood on Porcelain
“She really left?”
“Yes,” Allan muttered, jaw tight. “Signed the papers and walked out.”
His father snorted. “You’re lucky. Now marry Jolene and repair what she damaged.”
“She didn’t damage anything,” Allan said sharply.
His mother raised a brow. “You don’t still pity her?”
“I don’t know what I feel,” he snapped, rising from the chair. “She looked... wrong. Pale. Thin. Like she was burning from the inside out.”
“Guilt,” his father dismissed. “Let it go, Allan. Focus on the future.”
Allan didn’t answer. He walked out.
---
In the dining hall, the conversation swirled like smoke.
“Did you hear? Emerie signed the divorce scroll herself.”
“Jolene’s already looking at Luna gowns.”
“Finally. A real Luna.”
Emerie sat near the end of the table, alone. Her spoon clinked quietly against the bowl.
Kalen passed by. “Don’t let them get to you.”
“They’re not wrong,” Emerie said softly. “I’m not Luna anymore.”
“You’re still here,” he said. “That counts.”
She gave him a faint smile, but her hand trembled as she lifted the spoon.
Across the hall, Jolene entered, cheeks flushed, a tray balanced in her hands.
“Sweetened tea, light honey,” she chirped, setting it before Allan. “Your favorite.”
He blinked. “You remembered.”
“Of course.” She rubbed her belly lightly. “Our girl will probably have your appetite.”
Laughter rippled through the table.
Emerie stood abruptly. Her chair scraped. The entire hall paused.
“I’m done,” she said simply, placing her bowl aside. Her throat burned.
She walked out before anyone could speak.
---
She made it to the corridor before her vision blurred.
“Emerie!”
She turned. Jolene was hurrying toward her, silk sleeves fluttering.
“I didn’t mean to—are you alright?”
Emerie steadied herself against the wall. “Yes.”
“You look awful.” Jolene frowned, then smiled. “Sorry. I mean... Are you getting sick again?”
“Again?”
“Oh, well... I heard you’d been going to Greywood. Just a flu, right?”
Emerie nodded slowly. “Something like that.”
“Do you want me to bring you anything? I still have ginger candies from when I was queasy.”
“No, thank you.”
Jolene reached into her coat and pulled out a small envelope. “Actually, I wanted to give you this.”
Emerie hesitated. “What is it?”
“My invitation list. For the wedding.”
Emerie didn’t take it.
“You’re still family,” Jolene said sweetly. “Half-sisters, remember?”
Emerie smiled without warmth. “Yes. Half.”
---
She ducked into the washroom before her stomach could turn.
The porcelain sink gleamed under harsh lighting. She leaned over it, gripping the edge.
A sudden pressure exploded behind her eyes. Warmth flooded her upper lip.
Blood.
Again.
She gasped, fumbling for tissues. Crimson splashed across the white basin, swirling down the drain like melted rubies.
Her knees buckled.
She braced herself, heart hammering.
Too fast. Too soon.
She coughed once, the taste of iron sharp in her mouth.
---
A soft knock on the door.
“Emerie?”
Allan.
She stared at the mirror. Her reflection looked like a ghost in mourning.
“I’m fine,” she called, voice steady despite the blood pooling on the tissue in her palm.
“I saw you leave the dining hall.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated.
A pause. “I was going to check on you yesterday, but... I didn’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say, Allan.”
“I keep thinking... Did I ever really know you?”
Emerie wiped the blood from her lips, then opened the door. He stepped back, startled.
“You look—”
“Don’t,” she cut him off. “You don’t get to act concerned now.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”
She hesitated. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters.”
“Then maybe you should’ve asked before signing the divorce.”
His expression darkened. “You wanted it. You shoved it at me like it was a gift.”
“And you accepted it like a favor.”
Silence stretched.
She folded the bloodstained handkerchief into her coat pocket.
“I’m not your Luna. I’m not your problem.”
“You’ll always be—”
“Don’t,” she said again. “Not unless you mean it.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Where will you go?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“You won’t survive alone, Emerie. You’re not built for that kind of isolation.”
She looked him dead in the eyes. “Then I’ll die my way. On my terms.”
---
She returned to her room and collapsed on the bed, her heart pounding.
Her bag was already half-packed. She added herbs, the medical scroll, and a fresh cloak.
The room spun.
Breathe. Just breathe.
She lit a candle. The flame flickered wildly.
Her mother’s locket sat on the table. She clutched it like a lifeline.
---
A knock.
She didn’t answer.
Another knock.
Then Jolene’s voice. “You left so quickly earlier. Are you mad at me?”
Emerie didn’t move.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jolene continued. “I just thought... maybe we could be civil, you know? After everything.”
Emerie opened the door. Jolene looked startled.
“You should stop,” Emerie said.
“Stop what?”
“Pretending you don’t enjoy watching me fade.”
Jolene blinked. “I—I’m just trying to be kind.”
“You won,” Emerie said simply. “So why keep circling the corpse?”
Jolene flushed. “That’s not fair.”
“No,” Emerie said, voice colder than the window glass. “But then, neither was what you did three years ago.”
Jolene’s mouth opened, then snapped shut.
Emerie stepped back and closed the door.
---
Later that night, Emerie sat by the fire, watching embers turn to ash.
Kalen appeared quietly beside her.
“I heard what happened,” he said.
“Which part?”
“The sink.”
“Ah.”
“Do you want me to get the healer?”
“No,” she said. “I know what she’ll say.”
“Emerie—”
“I have six months,” she interrupted. “Give or take.”
Kalen’s eyes widened. “What...?”
She pulled the scroll from her pocket and handed it to him.
He read in silence. His jaw tightened.
“I’m sorry.”
She took it back. “Me too.”
---
The next morning, Emerie packed the last of her things.
No goodbye note.
Just the weight of her silence.
She crossed the courtyard at dawn, mist curling around her boots.
The gates stood open.
No guards stopped her.
And when the sun broke through the clouds, it caught the silver locket at her throat like a promise.