He Took His Ex for Wedding Photos

During a live charity interview, the reporter asked a cancer patient if she had any regrets.

The pale woman lowered her eyes, her voice dripping with sorrow:

I regret saying such horrible things to force the man I loved to break up with me when I was first diagnosed. I didn't want to be a burden to him.

"I regret keeping the truth a secret all these years, letting him hate me for so long."

"But my biggest regret is that when he married my best friend, I didn't have the courage to run onto the stage and steal him back."

Sitting in front of the screen, I froze.

I recognized her instantlythat weak woman was my former best friend, and my husband Ethan's first love, Chloe Higgins.

The living room was dead silent.

Beside me, Ethan had watched the entire interview. His usually calm face was now terrifyingly dark.

A few seconds later, he grabbed his coat, muttered something about an emergency at the office, and rushed out.

Instinctively, I followed him, only to hear his voice trembling on the phone:

"Find out why Chloe went abroad back then. Find out if she's really sick."

My footsteps halted. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.

During college, Ethan and Chloe were the golden couple everyone envied. That was until the Vance family went bankrupt. Ethan hit rock bottom, and Chloe ruthlessly dumped him, saying the cruelest things. Even when he got down on his knees and begged, she never looked back. Shortly after, she moved abroad.

During those dark days, everyone abandoned and mocked him. I was the only one who stayed by his side, helping him claw his way back to the top.

Later, we got together and had been married for three years. To everyone else, we were the perfect couple.

I always thought those old wounds had healed. But at this moment, I realized he had never truly let her go.

I tossed and turned all night.

The next morning, he came backwith a pale-looking Chloe.

Our eyes met, and she forced a weak smile. "Hazel, long time no see."

Ethan spoke, his voice thick with heartache and guilt:

"I checked everything. Chloe didn't leave because my family went bankrupt. She was diagnosed with cancer and didn't want to drag me down, so she forced me away."

The way he looked at Chloe was so tender it stung. He had never looked at me like that.

"The doctors say she doesn't have much time left. Chloe's final wish is to be my wife for seven days to make up for our past regrets."

Every word stabbed my heart. To fulfill his first love's dying wish, he was willing to trample on his current wife's dignity.

My eyes burned, and my chest ached terribly. I swallowed all my humiliation and whispered:

"Okay. I agree."

Ethan was stunned, but he didn't offer a single word of comfort. He turned, supported Chloe, and walked straight into the guest bedroom.

I was left standing alone in the massive living room.

What he didn't know was that just three days ago, I had also been diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer.

I slowly walked back to the master bedroom, locked the door, and made a call.

"Doctor, I agree to go abroad for treatment. I'll arrive in London in seven days."

During our three years of marriage, Ethan took me to London for a vacation every year.

I had once asked him why we always went to London. He just smiled, ruffled my hair, and said nothing.

Now that I thought about it, during those afternoons walking down the streets of London, holding my hand and feeding pigeons while staring into the crowdwas he just hoping to catch a glimpse of the face he desperately missed?

Every year on Chloe's birthday, he would lock himself in his study all night, claiming he had work to do.

My eyes welled up, and tears rolled down my cheeks.

For dinner, Ethan made a feast, entirely composed of Chloe's favorite dishes.

She took two bites, put down her fork, and said she had no appetite. He immediately put down his bowl and began coaxing her gently.

Sitting across from them, I felt like a complete stranger. I took a bite of food, but a sudden wave of nausea hit me. I covered my mouth and rushed to the bathroom to dry heave.

When I walked out, pale and leaning against the wall, I met his cold gaze:

"Hazel Vance, have you had enough? Chloe is the one who is actually sick. Do you have to pretend to be sick just to steal the spotlight?"

His words were like needles piercing my heart.

Usually, my illness only caused stomach pain. I had never felt this nauseous before. An absurd thought popped into my head.

He didn't look at me again, turning back to comfort Chloe.

The next day, I went to the hospital in secret.

The moment I got the lab results, my mind went entirely blank. I was seven weeks pregnant.

Holding the report, my fingers trembled as I walked out of the clinic, only to run straight into Chloe.

She smiled and asked what I was doing there. I instinctively hid the report behind my back. She smugly mentioned that Ethan was worried about her and insisted on bringing her for a checkup.

Just then, an out-of-control motorcycle came swerving directly toward us.

A figure rushed over, pulling Chloe into his arms to shield her. I was knocked hard to the ground by the motorcycle. My knees and palms scraped open, and a dull, throbbing pain shot through my lower abdomen.

Trembling in pain, I called out his name. But Ethan, holding a startled Chloe, only threw a cold glance my way:

"Just bear with it for a bit. For these seven days, I'm Chloe's husband. I have to be responsible for her."

With that, he scooped Chloe up and walked away without looking back.

I lay on the cold ground. The blood from my palm smeared across the pregnancy report. Watching their retreating figures, my tears fell silently.

A kind passerby ended up sending me to the ER.

The pain in my abdomen and stomach came in agonizing waves until I finally went numb.

The doctor walked in with my chart, letting out a sigh of relief. He said the baby was temporarily fine but showed signs of a threatened miscarriage. After looking at my medical history, his brow furrowed deeply:

"You have late-stage stomach cancer? What do you plan to do with this pregnancy?"

Lying on the bed, I stared blankly at the ceiling and shook my head.

The doctor sighed and told me to discuss it with my husband as soon as possible. The word "husband" felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

The ward door was pushed open, and Ethan walked in, his brow furrowed as he looked at my pale face:

"How did you end up like this?"

The doctor was about to speak, but I cut him off, asking him to leave first.

Ethan leaned against the doorframe, casually glancing at my scraped arms. "Are you okay?" he asked half-heartedly. I shook my head slightly.

"Pack up. We need to go to City Hall in a bit."

"Why?"

"To get a divorce. Chloe has never taken wedding photos at City Hall. It's her dream. We'll get a temporary divorce so I can register and take photos with her. Don't overthink it. We'll remarry after the seven days are up."

Hearing his casual tone, I clutched the blanket until my knuckles turned white. I remembered the day we got married. He had held my hand under the bright sun, looking at me with pure sincerity, promising that marriage was sacred and he would love me forever.

Now, those same eyes held nothing but indifference and entitlement.

My heart felt like it had been ripped open. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, there was nothing but dead silence:

"Okay. I agree."

Half an hour later, the three of us stood in the lobby of City Hall.

Ethan signed the divorce papers without a second thought. In the blink of an eye, he was leading Chloe to the photo area. He had somehow prepared a white veil beforehand, gently pinning it into her hair. A professional photographer was already waiting.

Chloe, wearing the veil, glanced at me and immediately put on a guilty, anxious act. "Maybe we shouldn't do this, Ethan..."

Ethan held her hand tightly. "If you hadn't gotten sick and left, you would have been the one marrying me in the first place."

With a flash, the camera captured them looking like a perfect, loving couple.

I stood in the corner of the lobby, clutching my divorce certificate. A sharp, sudden spasm in my stomach made me double over in pain.

Ethan walked over with Chloe, his brow furrowing slightly when he saw me like this.

Biting my lip, my voice shook as I asked, "Can you drive me home? I really don't feel well."

Without hesitation, he cut me off. "I made appointments at the jewelry store and bridal boutique to try on rings with Chloe. Just take a cab." His tone was dismissive.

I stood at the entrance of City Hall, watching them drive away. I tried hailing several cabs, but none stopped. Eventually, I had to drag my feet and slowly walk back to the villa.

By the time I reached the house, my body felt like it was falling apart. My hands shook as I poured a couple of pills, swallowed them with cold water, and curled up on the bed, falling into a heavy sleep.

I dreamed of many years ago, right after the Vance family went bankrupt. I had gone to find Chloe, wanting to persuade her to go back and support Ethan. But her face was filled with disdain as she dragged her suitcase. She sneered, "I only stayed with him because his family was rich. Now that he has nothing, why should I suffer with him?"

I begged her, but she just laughed and walked away without looking back.

Back then, Chloe looked perfectly healthy, showing absolutely no signs of illness.

I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.

It was pitch black outside, and the house was dead quiet.

I got up to get a glass of water. As I reached the stairs, I heard a woman's hushed, smug voice on the phone. It was Chloe:

"Don't worry, he already brought me home and we registered our marriage. Our plan is almost complete. When his family went bankrupt, I left because I didn't want to live like a beggar. Now that he's rich again, of course I'm coming back. Hurry up and find someone to pose as a specialist. We'll say my cancer miraculously went into remission after treatment. Once I secure my position as Mrs. Vance, you'll get your cut. Hazel? Don't worry about her. Ethan has only ever loved me. She's just a cheap substitute who can't do anything."

The blood in my veins turned to ice. I took a step back in shock and accidentally made a sound.

The phone call cut off instantly.

Chloe snapped her head up. When our eyes met, panic flashed across her face.

"You're not sick at all," I said. "You left him back then because he was poor."

Right then, the sound of keys jingling came from the front door. Chloe's eyes flicked to the door, and she suddenly threw herself backward, rolling down the stairs. Her forehead slammed against the steps, bleeding instantly.

Ethan rushed in and gathered her into his arms. Chloe sobbed weakly, "I just wanted to talk to Hazel about the past... but she pushed me down the stairs..."

Ethan whipped his head up to look at me, his eyes burning with absolute rage:

"Hazel Vance! She is a dying patient, and you still can't tolerate her? How can you be so vicious?!"

"I didn't push her! She's faking it! She left you back then because you were poor!"

"Shut up! She's this sick, and you're still throwing dirt on her! I never realized how shameless you could be!"

He scooped Chloe up, giving me a look filled with pure hatred, and rushed out the door.

I was left alone in the massive villa. My hands shook as I sent him text after text on Snapchat: "She's faking it! Check her medical records!" But my messages went unanswered.

I decided to go to the hospital myself. I couldn't let Chloe frame me like this.

But as I neared the hospital, a black van screeched to a halt in front of me. A pair of strong arms clamped over my mouth and dragged me inside.

I was taken to an abandoned warehouse. A brutal-looking, middle-aged man stood before me, slamming his foot onto the back of my hand. Punches and kicks rained down on me, each strike delivered with full force.

I instinctively curled into a ball to protect my stomach. But warm blood still began to flow down my thighs. My vision blurred, and I blacked out.

I don't know how much time passed, but I felt a jarring sensation as I slowly regained a sliver of consciousness. Half-awake, I heard people whispering nearby about "cancer" and "miscarriage."

When I finally opened my eyes, I was in a sterile white hospital room. Ethan sat by the bed, his face grim, staring at me with a mix of fury and disappointment.

My throat was dry. My first instinct was to touch my stomach. "The baby..." my voice rasped. "How is the baby?"

"The baby?" He let out a cold, mocking laugh. "You really are ruthless, Hazel. Just to frame Chloe, you'd even use our own child to put on a show. The thug you hired to beat you up has already confessed. He said you paid him to kidnap and beat you so you could blame it on Chloe. You sacrificed your own baby just to ruin her?"

He looked at my flat stomach, a complex flash of emotion crossing his eyes:

"I told you Chloe is dying. Why do you have to be so cruel? Didn't we both look forward to this child? I always thought you were sweet and kind. It turns out you've been putting on an act all these years. It's pathetic."

Every single word was like a poisoned blade carving out my heart.

When he had nothing, when everyone shunned him, I was the one who stayed by his side, eating instant noodles and squeezing into cheap rentals with him. Back then, he would stroke my hair and say, "Hazel, you're the kindest, strongest girl I've ever met."

Now, because of a few lies from Chloe, he treated me like trash.

A violent spasm of pain tore through my chest. I opened my mouth, but before a word could come out, a metallic taste filled my throat. I leaned over and coughed up a pool of bright red blood.

Ethan's face paled instantly. He reached out to help me, but the doctors rushed in. While performing emergency checks, the head doctor barked at him:

"What kind of husband are you?! Didn't you know your wife has late-stage stomach cancer?! Losing the baby was already a massive physical blow, and you're still stressing her out?!"

Ethan froze, his mind going completely blank.

Chloe threw herself into his arms, sobbing, "How could Hazel have cancer too? Is she... is she pretending because she saw how much you care about me?"

Ethan looked down at me. "Do you really have stomach cancer?" I leaned against the headboard, not even bothering to open my eyes.

Chloe looked up from his chest, her face full of forced sincerity. "Why don't the two of us get a full checkup together? It'll prove I'm not lying, and it'll clear your name too, Hazel."

Before I could even speak, Ethan agreed.

I was forced to undergo a series of tests. Soon, both reports were brought to the room.

Ethan's hands shook as he held them. When he saw the results, his face twisted in rage, and he slammed the papers onto my face:

"See for yourself! Chloe is the one with cancer! Hazel Vance, you'd even fake an illness like this! Is there anything you won't do?!"

I looked down at the report, then at Chloe. She kept her head low to play the victim, but a smug smirk played on her lips.

I understood instantly. The reports had been switched.

I didn't argue or explain. Since the day she returned, he had never believed a single word I said anyway.

Ethan took my silence as a confession, his anger flaring even hotter:

"Chloe wants chicken soup. Go back home, make some, and bring it over. Consider it your apology for slandering her."

I still didn't say a word. I pulled back the blanket, got out of bed, and walked out of the ward with unsteady steps.

I went back to the villa, but I didn't go to the kitchen. Instead, I started packing my things.

Three years of marriage, and all my belongings fit into a single suitcase.

I gently touched my flat stomach. The baby was gone, my love was dead, and there was nothing left to hold onto.

Grabbing my passport and the ticket I had booked days ago, I headed straight for the airport. I switched off my phone and threw it to the very bottom of my suitcase.

At the hospital, Ethan waited for hours without a sign of me. He called me repeatedly, but it went straight to voicemail. His face darkened, assuming I was just being childish and throwing a tantrum.

My primary doctor walked in with my chart, frowning. "Where is Hazel Vance? She has late-stage stomach cancer and needs bed rest. How could you let her wander off?"

Ethan froze, his voice cold. "You must have made a mistake. She isn't sick. The one with cancer is Chloe."

The doctor looked at him like he had heard the most ridiculous joke:

"Are you out of your mind? The day she was admitted, the entire oncology department confirmed her diagnosis of terminal stomach cancer. As for this Miss Higgins, she claims she has cancer, but her charts show she is perfectly healthy!"