As Isolde made her way to St. Jude’s, the internet was flooded with comments about her diagnosis.
“Honestly, I think Isolde is brave. She’s clear about her feelings and her boundaries. It’s impressive.”
“Exactly. Plenty of people like Caspian. As long as she’s not wrecking his marriage, her feelings are her own business.”
“Her older videos gave me a glimpse into the lives of the wealthy. It’s sad she won’t be around much longer.”
“Who is Caspian’s wife, anyway? She should just let him be with Isolde. The woman only has six months left.”
“I know her. It’s Lyra Sanford, a musician. She stopped working after she got married.”
***
At St. Jude’s, Lyra’s phone buzzed incessantly with calls and messages. Some feigned concern, others fished for information, and a few were outright mocking. All of it was about Isolde and Caspian. Lyra had seen enough headlines to understand the situation. She didn’t click on any of them.
It no longer mattered. Once the divorce was final, Caspian would be out of her life.
She checked the time just as Zara walked toward her.
“How are you feeling?” Zara asked, her face etched with worry. “Any pain?” Seeing the strain on Lyra’s face, she reached out to help her up.
Lyra managed a small smile and shook her head. She had made her decision. Some things just had to be faced.
Zara sighed and helped her to the elevator. The doors opened onto the crowded ground floor lobby. Lyra noticed several reporters scattered among the throng.
“So many people today. Probably another celebrity check-up,” Zara remarked. “They always bring this kind of attention…” She stopped abruptly, her expression changing as she tried to steer Lyra in the opposite direction.
But it was too late. Lyra had already seen them.
Caspian stood tall, effortlessly commanding attention. The chaos of the lobby seemed to part for him; his hair was perfectly styled, his suit immaculate. Beside him stood Isolde, looking small and frail, her pale face making her appear even more fragile. She stumbled slightly, and Caspian immediately caught her, shielding her from the crowd and the cameras.
“Don’t look,” Zara said quickly, stepping in front of Lyra, her voice sharp with anger.
“Zara, let’s go,” Lyra said calmly. She had no desire for a confrontation.
“Why should we be the ones to go?” Zara snapped. “You’re not divorced yet. He’s still your husband, and he’s here holding another woman in public. It’s shameless.”
Husband… Lyra looked away with a sigh. There was a time the word alone would have made her smile. Not anymore.
“I don’t feel well, Zara. Let’s just go,” Lyra said, changing the subject.
Zara’s focus shifted back to her friend. They turned to leave. Across the lobby, Isolde glanced over, a flicker of triumph on her face.
“I’m sorry, Caspian. I didn’t mean to drag you into this,” she said, her voice laced with remorse. “I know how much you hate the spotlight…”
“It’s fine,” Caspian replied, his expression unreadable. “Let’s see the doctor.”
They stepped into a consultation room, where Isolde handed her medical file to the doctor. He read through it slowly, his brow furrowed.
“This looks serious,” he said.
Isolde gave a faint smile. “I know.” She took a slow breath. “Please prescribe something strong for the pain.”
“In your condition, I recommend you stay in the hospital and begin treatment,” the doctor urged. “There’s still a chance we can extend your life.”
“What’s the point?” Isolde said with a sad smile, brushing away a tear. “I don’t want treatment.”
Caspian’s fingers tightened around hers.
She shook her head slightly. “Doctor, I just want to spend my last days with some dignity,” she said. “So please, just the painkillers.”
The doctor sighed but eventually nodded in understanding.
Outside, reporters were snapping photos and posting videos online. The public response was emotional.
“Good heavens, this is a real person whose life is ending.”
“I cry over a paper cut. I can’t imagine what late-stage cancer feels like. She’s so strong.”
“I teared up when she said she wouldn’t go through treatment. Only people who’ve faced serious illness can understand that.”
Public sympathy for Isolde soared.
***
After getting her prescription, Isolde and Caspian walked out of the hospital. Lyra was sitting on a nearby bench, waiting for Zara to bring the car around. Before she could react, paparazzi swarmed her, camera flashes erupting all at once.
Caspian saw her too. He frowned. “What are you doing here?”
Lyra stood, her gaze moving from Caspian to Isolde’s hand resting on his arm. The reporters didn’t give her a chance to speak.
“Mrs. Thorne, did you come because of the news online? Are you trying to catch them together?”
“What do you think of your husband being with another woman in public?”
“Mrs. Thorne, what are your plans regarding Isolde?”
Everyone assumed Lyra had come to start a fight. Even Caspian. He looked annoyed.
“Isolde is sick. Didn’t you know?” he snapped, his voice menacing.
Lyra almost laughed. So that’s what he thought—that she was here to pick a fight with a sick woman. He really didn’t know her at all.
Seeing Lyra remain silent, the reporters turned back to Isolde.
Caspian looked at Lyra again. “Lyra!” he called out, wanting her to defend Isolde, expecting her to do his bidding as she always had.
But the will to please him was gone. She was leaving him; there was no reason left to obey.
Lyra placed a hand over her stomach, where the dull ache persisted. “I came to visit a friend,” she said finally. She didn’t want to say more, not about her pregnancy, not with all these eyes on her.
Having answered Caspian, she turned to leave, but the reporters blocked her path.
“Mrs. Thorne, people online are saying you should step aside and let Mr. Thorne be with Isolde. What do you have to say to that?”
“Isolde doesn’t have much time left. Are you still going to fight her?”
“Mrs. Thorne—”
Lyra tried to push through the crowd. Thrilled by the drama, no one was willing to let her go. Caspian stood by, saying nothing, and his silence emboldened someone to shove Lyra hard.
She staggered backward, her arms instinctively wrapping around her stomach.
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