My Wife Said Only Death Could Set Me Free

Chapter 2

From the beginning, I had planned to use this pain to torment myself, so I didn't keep any painkillers at home. Every time it struck, I just bit the bullet to tough it through. Only in those moments could I feel alive.

It hurt, deeply. As I convulsed, my feet kicked against the bed frame, making sharp sounds.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Usually after Lyra left, she wouldn't come back for a while. But whoever was ringing the bell, I didn't have the strength to stand up and open the door.

The person outside was persistent, ringing again and again, clearly in a hurry, showing no sign of leaving. Unexpectedly, my headache faded quickly this time, so I managed to support myself against the headboard and stumbled to the door.

Looking through the peephole, I saw Lyra standing there, her expression icy. I sighed and tried to act casual as I opened the door.

The moment she walked in, she shoved me and said, "What's the holdup? Can't you hurry up and open the door?"

I steadied myself against the door frame and controlled my tone. I didn't wanted her to sense anything unusual. "Don't you have a key?"

She didn't even glance at me and headed straight for the bedroom to grab some documents. "Luka has the key. He was in a hurry to get to the office and left."

I responded with a simple "Oh". As she approached the door, she added, "Oh, and iron your formal wear for Luka. Send it to the office; he's attending a banquet with me tonight. Can't wait for the custom suit."

"Got it," I replied.

Luka and I were about the same build, but that was before I got sick.

After Lyra left, I went to the cloakroom and stared at the tailored suits in the closet, feeling like I was in another world.

I hadn't stepped into the cloakroom since I fell ill.

Looking at the neatly arranged suits, ties, and cufflinks, I felt my heart ache bitterly. These were all things Lyra had helped me organize before, but that's just too much water under the bridge.

I took the ironed suit to the office, and everyone's eyes scrutinized me. There was pity, helplessness, disdain, and a lot of onlookers.

Lyra's infidelity was common knowledge, and I was just a disposable figure in her life. In the past, I might have cared about their opinions, but now, it didn't matter; nothing mattered.

When I reached the office door, Roman Lane, the secretary, stopped me. He had been with Lyra since the start of their business and had been a classmate of ours for years. Every time he saw me in the company like a puppet, he always looked the most concerned.

He said, "Isaac, Mrs. Smith is with a client right now. Just give me the suit, and I'll take it to her."

I could tell he meant well.

There weren't any clients inside; it was just Luka. But I didn't want to go in and make things awkward, so I handed the clothes to Roman. He then led me to the lounge.

Clearly shocked by my appearance, he asked, "What happened? You look terrible. You've lost so much weight."

I forced a smile and casually replied, "Just a minor illness." Fearing he might ask more, I quickly changed the subject, "I heard our alma mater is having a nostalgia event. Can you get me an invitation?"

People facing death tended to reminisce more about the past, especially the good times.

Roman seemed surprised when I mentioned it. He paused for a few seconds before responded, "You shouldn't go to a crowded event like that. There will be plenty of opportunities later; you can go next time."

I knew he was looking out for me.

Back in college, Lyra and I were madly in love, almost flaunting it to the world. Then, when her family fell apart, I eagerly abandoned her. Many people despised me for that.

Although years had passed, they still cursed me behind my back at the mere thought. If I went to the university event, it would be incredibly challenging. But what I feared more was that I might not make it to the next one.

The doctor said this illness progressed quickly; I wasn't sure if I'd last a year, two years, or even just a few months.

I was afraid I wouldn't make it to the next school event. It seemed Roman noticed my determination. He felt unable to change my mind and handed me his own invitation.

Knock, knock—

Someone knocked on the door. Roman went to open it. Standing there was Luka, all smiles, polite and understanding, completely different from the provocations he showed me.

"Mr. Lane, I'm here to get Mr. Smith." He looked at me and said, "Lyra said to hang the clothes in her office first. I'll change there later."

I nodded and was about to take the clothes, but Roman quickly interjected, "Mr. Smith, if you aren't feeling well, I can take them instead."

Roman was probably the only one willing to believe me; he trusted that I had my reasons for leaving Lyra.

But I guessed Luka wouldn't agree to that. Sure enough, he stood firm at the door, not moving an inch. "Mr. Lane, please don't make this difficult for me; Lyra specifically said Mr. Smith should deliver them personally."

Honestly, Luka was quite handsome. His youthful brightness was like sunshine, the kind of looks that made hearts skip a beat. He was like me in college.

Stuck in the middle, Roman was in a tough spot, while I didn't want to make it difficult for him. I smiled, took the suit from his hand, and followed Luka out of the lounge. It felt like he was the real master here.

Inside the office, Lyra sat wearily behind her desk. When I walked in, she was rubbing her forehead, like she hadn't slept well.

Running such a large company alone was stressful, and sleepless nights were common. Especially with Luka around, she had to split her attention even more.

After hanging the clothes on the rack, I was about to leave when Lyra suddenly looked up at me. She furrowed her brow even more and said, "Make a dairy cream cake tonight; Luka likes it."

I was about to reply, but Luka jumped in first, "Lyra, I just mentioned it casually; the cake is hard to make. Mr. Smith will be tired, right?"

"It's just baking a cake; what's so hard about it?" Lyra shot me a glance. "He's just at home. If he doesn't get it right the first time, he can always make another one. As long as you like it, he'll get it done before tonight."

'Heh, she really spoils Luka,' I thought.

On my way home, I took a detour to a bakery—the same one Lyra and I stumbled upon back in high school.

This shop had a unique location, with a huge food market on one side and a park for seniors on the other. Opening a bakery here seemed like it had no real customer base.

I used to bet with Lyra that this place would close down for sure. But life was unpredictable; now that we were about to part ways, the shop was still going strong.

The selection in the bakery wasn't as varied as it used to be. I browsed the baking section for what I needed for tonight.

Suddenly, the owner walked over, tilting his head to look at me. "You're... Isaac Smith, right?"

I was a bit surprised when our eyes met. The owner smiled broadly. "It really is you. You always brought your girlfriend here for cupcakes back in school, didn't you?"

"Yeah, you have a great memory," I replied.