Maya stared at the filing receipt, surprised.
She and Elara had been close friends for more than ten years, and in all that time, Maya had seen just how hard Elara loved Julian.
There was a time Elara could have died for him, and nobody would have questioned it.
They got married a year ago. Maya had smiled at the wedding, even though something about their pairing felt off.
But still, Elara had gotten what she wanted. That had been enough for Maya.
Now this…
What had happened?
“I don’t love him anymore,” Elara said, before Maya could ask.
She looked over and gave a small, calm smile.
In that smile, Maya caught a glimpse of the old Elara–the one from before everything collapsed, before grief carved deep lines into her, before her father’s death and the fall of the Vance family changed her.
It brought Maya a strange sense of calm.
“Julian doesn’t know I’m pr**nant,” Elara said calmly. “And before the divorce becomes final, I don’t want to take any risks. It’s better if he doesn’t know.”
If either party changed their mind before the divorce was finalized, they could take back the application, and the procedure would no longer go through.
And that was when Maya knew that Elara wasn’t playing around about divorcing Julian.
After taking it all in, Maya did what needed to be done: she booked Elara’s medical tests and then advised carefully, “Wait a few days before the surgery.”
Elara frowned in confusion. “Why?”
“You know your bl**d type–Rh-negative. It’s rare. We need time to prepare bl**d, just in case. I’ve already contacted the bl**d bank. They said it might take a week.”
Elara went quiet. The sadness in her eyes was unmistakable.
She had gotten that bl**d type from her father. And now she missed him all over again.
If he were still here…
“Okay.” Elara nodded slowly. A smile tugged at her lips, but her eyes turned red.
“You also have early signs of mi**arriage. You need to be careful these next few days,” Maya added, her voice full of concern.
They’d grown up together, and Maya knew Elara’s sadness too well.
She held Elara’s hand. “Wait for me. My shift’s almost over. I’ll go home with you.”
Elara nodded, and then went to wait in the hallway.
She looked down at her stomach.
Early signs of mi**arriage.
Did the baby know what she’d decided and want to leave first?
Pursing her lips, Elara walked toward the lab for the tests.
Her phone buzzed. It was a bank notification.
She had opened a new account–one that Julian wouldn’t know about. She was keeping her money cleanly separate before the divorce was finalized.
Every cent she earned from now on would live in that account.
A second message followed. “Payment for composition and lyrics has been completed. Finance has sent the transfer. Kindly confirm.”
Before she married Julian, Elara had worked quietly as an anonymous songwriter.
Music had always been her first love. Back when her father was alive, life had been generous, and she lacked nothing.
As the Vance family’s only daughter, she had the freedom and the means to grow her gift.
The turns her life had taken had taught her things she hadn’t known she needed to learn.
Maybe her father never thought that the pastime he once encouraged would one day be the very thing keeping her afloat.
Elara paused, and then typed back, “Money received. Thank you.”
The reply came quickly from Marcus Thorne, a legendary music producer and a friend of her late father. “It’s what you deserve. You’ve written a lot of hits over the years. Why don’t you return? There’s a new show coming up. It fits you perfectly. I’ve sent details to your email. Reserved a contestant slot just for you.”
Elara opened her email. A new message sat at the top, inviting her to join a music competition show.
The format was familiar, like others she had seen before, but this one wanted something original.
She typed out a quick reply. “I’ll think about it.”
Then she set her phone down. A light cramp curled in her lower belly.
She thought of her father again.
The second time today.
…
Meanwhile, the Internet was buzzing with updates.
#SeraphinaRiversStomachCancer
#FloristSeraphinaRiversCountdown
#LastSixMonths
The most trending post was a video featuring a reporter summarizing the news about Seraphina.
“Sources confirm that the well-known floral designer, Seraphina Rivers, has been diagnosed with stomach cancer. She’s been given six months to live. But instead of retreating, she’s choosing to document her remaining time–she wants to share her life with the world as it winds down.”
The video cut to Seraphina. She looked at the camera with a sad smile.
“In these last six months, I’ll be posting updates about my life. I’m not doing it for attention. I just want to offer some comfort to others going through the same thing. I hope you all stay strong.”
Then the reporter came back on screen.
“There have long been whispers about Miss Rivers and Mr. Julian Croft, CEO of Croft Group. But Mr. Croft is married. It remains to be seen if he’ll reconnect with Miss Rivers during her final months.”
In the background, Seraphina seemed to have heard that part. She stepped forward, stopped beside the reporter, and gently cut in.
She faced the camera.
“I’m not ashamed to say I like Julian. He’s an incredible man,” she said. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels that way. But I want to make it clear–I’m not going to break up someone’s marriage. That’s not who I am.”
Having said that, she walked off, leaving the reporter behind.
She wove through the small crowd with a smile, and climbed into a waiting car.
The foreign caregiver from Flaville passed her a glass of water, hand paused in midair, unsure.
“You look like you want to say something,” Seraphina said, her voice cold. “Go ahead. The driver’s one of ours.”
The caregiver leaned in and lowered their voice. “Miss Rivers, your diagnosis… it’s a stomach ulcer. Having our facility change that into cancer is already risky. But now you’re sharing it with the public online?”
Seraphina gave a sharp laugh, startling the caregiver.
“Your facility–is it a licensed medical facility?” she asked.
The caregiver nodded.
“And does it manage my medical record privately?”
The caregiver gave another nod.
“Is that what my medical record says–that I have six months left because of terminal stomach cancer?”
The caregiver hesitated before nodding again.
“Exactly!” Seraphina leaned back with a smile. “It’s official, then. No one can question it.”
“But you don’t actually have stomach cancer. What happens later…”
“There are two ways out,” Seraphina said, cutting in. Her voice was sharper now, her eyes harder. “One: I make a miraculous recovery during treatment at your facility or somewhere else, maybe because of all the love I’ve received. Two: your facility gets blamed for a diagnostic error and months of wrong treatment.”
She turned her face fully to the caregiver, looking more intimidating. “Which option do you prefer?”
The caregiver looked panicked but forced out the words. “I’m sorry, Miss Rivers. I understand. You’ve already thought everything through.”
Seraphina gave a short, cold smile.
“Where should we go next, Miss Rivers?” the caregiver asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Seraphina glanced at her phone. “Crobert Hospital.”
The caregiver stiffened. “But–”
“Relax. I’m only going in for pain relief with my medical record,” Seraphina said, and then reached for her phone and sent Julian a message, telling him to meet her at the hospital later.
Almost instantly, he replied, “Sure.”
Meanwhile, Elara stood in the hospital restroom, a steady ache pulling at her lower stomach. In her hand was a tissue, the smear of bl**d clear against the white.
It was an early sign of a mi**arriage.
She Would Have No Ties With Julian
As Seraphina made her way to Crobert Hospital, the Internet was filled with comments about her diagnosis. Her name appeared across countless threads.
“To be honest, I think Seraphina’s brave. She’s clear about her feelings as well as boundaries. Quite impressive, actually.”
“Exactly. A lot of people like Julian. As long as she’s not wrecking his marriage, her feelings are her own business.”
“Her older videos and that livestream from Crest Villa gave me a glimpse into rich people’s lives. It’s sad she won’t be around much longer.”
“Who’s Julian’s wife, though? She should just let him be with Seraphina. The girl has only six months left.”
“I know her. It’s Elara Vance, a musician. She stopped working after she got married and became a full-time housewife.”
…
At Crobert Hospital, Elara’s phone kept buzzing. Calls and messages came one after another.
Some people acted concerned. Others wanted information. A few tried to mock her. All of it was about Seraphina and Julian.
Elara had read just enough of the headlines to understand what was going on with Seraphina’s illness.
She didn’t click on anything else.
It didn’t matter anymore.
Once the divorce was finalized, Julian would no longer be a part of her life.
She checked the time. When she looked up, she saw Maya walking toward her.
“How are you feeling?” Maya asked, concerned. “Any pain?” She saw the strain on Elara’s face and, without needing to be asked, reached out to help her rise.
Elara gave a small smile and shook her head.
She had made up her mind. Some things simply had to be faced.
Maya understood, but she just sighed and helped Elara up. They took the elevator.
The elevator doors soon opened at the ground floor.
The hospital was packed. Even more than usual. Elara noticed a few reporters scattered in the crowd.
“So many people today. Probably another celebrity here for a check-up,” Maya said.
“They always bring this kind of attention…” She stopped at once, her face changing. She had seen something and quickly tried to lead Elara in the other direction.
But there was no point. Elara had already spotted them.
Julian stood tall, striking in a way that drew attention without effort.
The noise and movement around him didn’t touch him–his hair perfectly in place, his suit smooth and sharp, like the chaos didn’t dare come close.
Seraphina stood beside him. She looked small and weak, her face pale, which made her seem even more fragile.
She lost her balance slightly. Julian stepped in to catch her, shielding her from the cameras and the crowd.
“Don’t look,” Maya said quickly, stepping in front of Elara, her tone sharp with anger.
“Maya, let’s go,” Elara said, her voice calm. She had made up her mind; Julian didn’t need to know she was there, and she had no interest in crossing paths with him now.
“Why should we go?” Maya snapped, growing more furious. “You’re not divorced yet. He’s still your husband. And he’s here holding another woman like it’s nothing. It’s shameless.”
Husband…
Elara looked away, sighing.
There was a time she had secretly smiled just thinking about Julian being her husband.
But not anymore.
“I don’t feel well, Maya. Let’s just go,” Elara said, changing the topic.
Maya gave her full attention now and stopped looking in Julian and Seraphina’s direction.
They left. Across the lobby, Seraphina glanced over. A flicker of pride passed through her face.
“I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess,” she said, a tinge of remorse in her voice. “I know you hate being in the spotlight…”
“It’s fine,” Julian replied. “Let’s go see the doctor first.” His face stayed calm, but something stirred in his thoughts–something brief, hard to name.
They stepped into the consultation room.
Seraphina handed over her medical record to the doctor.
The doctor read through it, slowly, and frowned.
“This looks serious,” he said.
Seraphina gave a faint smile. “I know,” she said quietly. Then she took a slow breath. “Please prescribe something strong for the pain.”
“In your current condition, I suggest you stay in the hospital and begin treatment,” the doctor said. “You should try. There’s still a chance we can extend your life.”
“What’s the point?” Seraphina gave a sad smile.
She brushed away the tears building in her eyes, and then said quietly, “I don’t want treatment.”
Julian’s fingers curled tighter around hers.
She gave a small shake of her head.
“Doctor, I just want to spend the last phase of my life with some dignity,” she said. “So, please prescribe some strong painkillers.”
The doctor sighed deeply but finally nodded in understanding.
Outside, reporters were taking photos and recording videos without pause before posting them online.
People watching were emotional.
“Good heavens, this is a real person whose life is ending.”
“I cry when I’m in mild pain. I can’t imagine what late-stage cancer feels like. But she still manages to smile. She’s really strong.”
“I couldn’t hold back tears when she said she wouldn’t go through treatment. Only people who’ve faced serious illness understand this feeling.”
Public sympathy for Seraphina reached its highest point.
…
Seraphina soon got her medicine, and as she and Julian walked out of the hospital, Elara was sitting on a bench nearby. She was waiting for Maya, who had gone to get the car.
Before Elara could respond to what was happening, paparazzi noticed her and rushed over.
The camera flashes came all at once.
Julian saw her too. He frowned and asked, “What are you doing here?”
Elara stood up, glanced at Julian, and then at Seraphina’s hand resting on his arm.
She didn’t speak yet. The crowd didn’t give her the chance.
“Mrs. Croft, did you come because of what’s online? Are you trying to catch them together?”
“What do you think of your husband being out in public with someone else?”
“Mrs. Croft, what are you planning to do about Seraphina?”
People quickly decided that Elara had shown up on purpose–to face Seraphina directly, to start something.
Even Julian thought the same.
He looked annoyed.
“Seraphina is sick. Didn’t you know?” he barked.
Julian’s voice was brimming with menace.
Elara felt like laughing.
So that was what he believed–that she was picking a fight on purpose with someone who was ill.
Julian really didn’t know her.
Seeing Elara didn’t answer, the reporters turned to Seraphina, asking questions about breaking up someone’s marriage.
Julian looked at Elara again. “Elara!” he called. He wanted her to defend Seraphina.
Like always, he expected her to do what he wanted.
But the will to please him was gone.
She was walking away from him–there was no reason left to obey.
Elara placed her right hand over her stomach. The dull ache was still there.
“I came to visit a friend,” she said finally.
She didn’t want to say more. Her pr**nancy wasn’t something she wanted to share–not before the divorce was finalized, not with all eyes on her.
Her reply to his question earlier was simple.
Having answered Julian, Elara turned to leave.
But the reporters didn’t back off. They crowded in around her.
“Mrs. Croft, people online are asking you to step aside and let Mr. Croft be with Seraphina. What do you say to that?”
“Seraphina doesn’t have long. Are you still going to fight her?”
“Mrs. Croft–”
Elara didn’t bother responding; she just wanted to get away.
The crowd, thrilled to see the three of them in the same place at last, had no intention of letting it end.
Julian stood still, saying nothing, and that silence gave someone the boldness to shove Elara with force.
She staggered, her arms moving at once to shield her stomach.
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