I Was His Real Disease

I had been married to Ethan Cole for one month when he was diagnosed with ALS.

The doctor said his muscles would gradually atrophy until respiratory failure.

I told him to quit his job, and I worked four jobs a day myself, so exhausted that my feet swelled too much to fit into shoes.

But as long as I could afford his daily physical therapy, I felt it was all worth it.

Until that night, when a drunk man grabbed me and dragged me into an alley, his vulgar words mixed with the stench of alcohol.

I struggled and screamed toward Ethan at the alley entrance: "Call 911! Call 911 now!"

He just stood there, frozen, not moving at all.

Afterward, I threw myself at him, tears streaming down my face: "Why wouldn't you lift your hand to call for help? You just watched me get attacked?"

He said sorry in a low voice, and my heart sank bit by bit.

Later, I accompanied him to a follow-up appointment. On the way, a woman in a white dress slipped.

Ethan suddenly pushed me aside and rushed over to catch her steadily.

He called out a name I had seen in 999 love letters.

"Lily, are you okay?"

So it turned out, I was his ALS.

The wind blew in from the alley entrance, carrying a rotten smell.

My clothes were torn to shreds, my hair plastered messily against my bleeding forehead.

The drunk was scared off by a few young people passing by.

And my husband, Ethan Cole, had stood there the entire time.

He didn't move, didn't shout, didn't even make any attempt to call for help.

He just stood there.

I steadied myself against the cold wall and shuffled toward him step by step.

"Ethan."

When I spoke, I realized my voice was completely hoarse.

"Why didn't you call 911?"

He hung his head, his fingers twitching slightlyone of the few voluntary movements since his illness.

"You couldn't even yell? Just one shout for help would have been enough!"

My questioning turned into hysterical screaming, piercing the empty night.

"You just watched him drag me in there! You just watched! Did you want me to die?"

Tears finally broke through the dam, mixing with blood as they flowed down.

He finally raised his head and struggled to open his mouth, squeezing a few words from his throat.

"I'm... sor...ry..."

Those words, he said clearly enough.

All the strength drained from my body instantly, and I collapsed at his feet.

Sorry?

For his twenty-thousand-dollar physical therapy sessions, I scrubbed dishes in restaurant kitchens until midnight, knelt to mop floors in office buildings, hauled bricks at construction sites, and worked as an overnight caregiver.

I slept only three hours a day. My feet were so swollen that even the largest slippers wouldn't fit.

I just wanted to take him outside for some fresh air, so he wouldn't be cooped up at home all the time.

And what did I get?

I got an "I'm sorry."

The hole in my heart grew bigger and bigger, and cold wind howled through it.

I didn't want to look at him anymore. I struggled to my feet and limped home.

He followed behind, his steps slow and heavythe last bit of dignity I had carefully maintained for him.

Back home, I locked myself in the bathroom. Hot water washed over my body but couldn't wash away the deep, bone-chilling disgust and coldness.

The person in the mirror was haggard and disheveled, with none of the glow from our wedding day.

I opened the medicine cabinet and tended to my wounds, every motion mechanical and numb.

Ethan knocked on the door, gently and patiently.

"Emma... open the door..."

I ignored him.

After a while, the knocking stopped.

When I finished treating my wounds and came out, the living room was quiet.

Ethan sat in his wheelchair, his back to me, his shoulders trembling slightly.

Was he crying?

I walked over, but saw the glowing phone screen in his hand.

On the screen was a chat with someone saved as "Lily."

The last message was one he had just sent.

"I miss you so much."

His fingers tapped rapidly on the screenwith a dexterity I had never seen before.

"She's so annoying. I can barely keep up this act anymore."

The phone's light reflected on his face. That wasn't guilt or sadnessit was pure impatience and disgust.

In that moment, my blood completely froze.

He sensed my presence and whipped around, frantically trying to hide his phone.

But it was too late.

Our eyes met, and the mask of fragility on his face instantly crumbled.

"Emma, let me explain..."

Ethan's defense stuck in his throat, because he saw the phone glowing in my hand too.

On my screen was a bank collection notice I had just received.

"Dear Ms. Emma Scott, the hospitalization and physical therapy fees you arranged for Mr. Ethan Cole are overdue. Please pay the outstanding balance of $200,000 within three days, or we will discontinue treatment."

Two hundred thousand dollars.

What a laughable number.

I closed my eyes, and memories of our wedding flashed through my mind.

Back then, Ethan was handsome and tall, standing before me, making his vows.

"Emma, I'll make you the happiest woman in the world."

He said his startup had failed, that he was drowning in debt, and asked if I still wanted to marry him.

I smiled and hugged him: "I'm marrying you, not your money."

One month after the wedding, he got "sick."

ALSa diagnosis that sounds hopeless just hearing it.

I quit my job, sold our small but cozy home, rented a run-down old apartment, and started working like crazy.

I believed that as long as we didn't give up, there was always hope.

But now, reality had slapped me hard across the face.

"Explain what?" I asked him calmly. Even I was surprised at how composed I was. "Explain that you can actually move? Or explain that you've been lying to me all along?"

Ethan stood up from the wheelchair.

Yes, he stood up. Stood up straight.

Gone was that sickly appearance that required my support just to barely stand.

"I didn't mean to, Emma." He walked toward me, trying to take my hand. "It started as a joke..."

"A joke?" I stepped back, avoiding his touch.

"Working myself to the bone every day was a joke? You standing by while I was attacked was a joke? Ethan, your jokes sure come at a high price!"

A flash of guilt crossed his face, but it vanished instantly.

"It was Lily! She made a bet with me!" He desperately shifted the blame. "She said if I married you, I had to prove that she was the only one in my heart! She said unless she came back, I couldn't have any 'normal' contact with the outside world! This was all for her!"

"For her?" I repeated those words, finding the whole thing utterly absurd. "So I deserved to be played like a fool? I deserved to be your slave?"

"I didn't think that way! Seeing you work so hard, I felt bad too!" He shouted back as if he were the one who had been wronged.

"I wanted to tell you the truth so many times! But Lily said this was the final test of our love! She said she'd be back soon!"

"So those two hundred thousand dollars in 'therapy fees' were part of the test too?" I held up my phone, shoving the collection notice in his face. "I thought your startup failed and you were broke? How did you pay for this?"

His face went white instantly.

"I... I..." He stammered, unable to explain.

I didn't need his answer anymore.

I rushed into the bedroom and pulled open a hidden compartment under his bed.

Inside was a laptop.

I opened it, and a stock trading app appeared on the screen.

The numbers in the account had so many zeros I couldn't count them.

And in the transaction history, the most recent large withdrawal was from yesterday.

The description read: Lily's Gallery.

I carried the laptop out and slammed it down on the coffee table in front of Ethan.

"Was this part of the test too? Throwing money at your first love while watching your wife go gray with worry over twenty thousand dollars in 'medical bills'?"

"You lay there every day watching me run myself ragged for you, watching me break down from collection callsdid that give you a sense of accomplishment?"

"Ethan Cole, do you even have a heart?"

I couldn't control myself anymore. I grabbed the water glass from the table and hurled it at him.

He dodged it easily.

That agile movement stabbed my eyes once again.

"Emma! Are you done with your tantrum?" He finally exploded, grabbing my wrist. "Money, money, money! That's all you care about! Fine, I admit I lied to you, but haven't I been good to you? I let you live in my house, gave you food and shelterwhat more do you want?"

"Food and shelter?" I laughed in disbelief. "I live in what you called 'the only place left after selling everything to pay off debts'a tiny dump! I wear secondhand clothes from thrift stores! I eat leftovers from restaurant kitchens! This is the food and shelter you gave me?"

"Then what do you want? Lily is different! She's never suffered a day in her life! I owe her! I have to make it up to her!" He shouted righteously.

"You owe her, so I have to pay?" My heart turned completely cold. "Ethan, let's get a divorce."

"Divorce?" He froze, then sneered. "Emma, don't push your luck. Who do you think you are? Without me, can you even survive? A woman with no education and no connectionswhere are you going to find someone as good as me?"

"Oh? Really?" I shook off his hand, walked to the door, and pulled it open.

Outside stood a man in a tailored suitmy new boss, the CEO of a publicly traded company.

Earlier that day, in that office building, I had knelt to polish his shoes.

When he saw me, he nodded slightly, then turned his gaze to Ethan inside.

"Mr. Cole, I've heard so much about you. I'm Ms. Emma Scott's attorney, and also her new employer."

The man handed over a business card, then turned to me and gave me a document.

"Ms. Scott, the equity transfer agreement left by your father has taken effect. As of today, you are officially the largest shareholder of Global Group. Here is the asset report on Mr. Ethan Cole that you asked me to investigate."

I took the documents without even glancing at them and threw them in Ethan's face.

Papers scattered across the floor, each one recording his lies and betrayal.

Ethan's expression shifted from shock to disbelief to utter incomprehension.

"Ms. Scott?... Global Group?" he muttered as if hearing a fairy tale.

I looked at him and spoke, word by word.

"I forgot to tell youmy father is the chairman of Global Group. He said if the man I married truly loved me, all this would be my dowry. If not, consider it a lesson learned."

"Ethan Cole, congratulations. You've taught me the most expensive lesson of my life."

Ethan's face lost all its color instantly.

He staggered back a step and crashed into the wall with a dull thud.