While My Mother Died

Marco flopped back onto the sofa.

Before I could swing again, Diana's voice cut in.

"Enough.

"Do you still want your mother treated or not?

"Tomorrow is the last surgery."

She caught my fist in her palm and stood between him and me.

Her fingers were small. I could have broken her wrist with one hand.

I didn't move. A chill spread through my chest.

"Diana, am I just a wallet to you?"

"What else would you be?"

I started laughing.

Six years.

You grow attached even to a dog after six years. I'm a living person.

Whatever Diana wanted, I gave her. I would have torn my heart out for her.

Not just because she was treating my mother–but because I had thought of her as my wife.

What had she treated me as?

A wallet? A fool? A cuckold?

She had taken my supplier payment and bought Marco a car.

The laughter came out uncontrollably, almost choking me.

It startled both of them.

Marco shrank into the corner of the couch, staring at me in fear. "Diana, get him out of here. He's like a lunatic."

Diana's face darkened. She pointed at the door.

"Did you hear him? Get out."

In that instant, a hundred thoughts ran through my mind.

The look on the supplier's face when my payment failed. My mother lying in bed, on a ventilator, trying to give up on life.

In the end, I gave in.

I grabbed a few clothes, stuffed them into a bag, and left my own house.

One more day. I just had to endure one more day.

After my mother's surgery, I would divorce Diana.

I sat in the back of a taxi on the way to the hospital, trying to calm myself.

When I arrived, my mother had just finished her checkup and was asleep.

I rubbed my face and sat by her bed.

Drip. Drip.

The IV fluid fell slowly, making faint sounds.

Maybe I had been too emotional today. Once I calmed down, exhaustion hit me.

Just as my head began to nod, my mother woke up.

"What's wrong? Did you and Diana have a fight?"

She smiled at me. The hand with the IV lifted slightly and rested on my head.

That warmth felt familiar.

Like when I was a child–when classmates mocked me for being an orphan, and I fought back, coming home covered in bruises.

She had not scolded me. She had just stroked my head and asked, "Does it hurt?"

At that moment, I could not hold it in anymore. I started crying like I used to.

"Mom… Diana… she's gone too far."

In the end, I did not say what she had done.

I was afraid it would hurt my mother. More than that, I was afraid she would try to give up her treatment to ease my burden.

My mother gently patted my back, again and again, without saying a word.

After a long while, she said, "If it's too hard… let it go."

"I don't want to be a burden to you."

See… Even without me saying anything, she understood everything.

I held her hand and slowly calmed down.

"We've come this far. How can I give up?"

"Mom, tomorrow is the final surgery. After that, you'll recover."

"In this world, I only have you."

Her fingers trembled slightly, then she let out a long sigh.

I lowered my head.

I knew how painful these years of treatment had been for her.

I knew I was being selfish.

However, the thought of losing her–even imagining it–was enough to drive me mad.

I glanced at the time. It was already late at night.

Diana and that man… should be done by now.

I stood up and said goodbye to my mother.

When I reached home, I pushed the key into the lock.

Before I could turn it, the door opened…