Regret After Divorce: I Lost the Best Her👉
Scarlett’s POV “Miss Taylor, did you come alone? Why don’t you call your husband?” The doctor glanced at the report in her hand, then looked up at me with eyes full of pity. That look. That damn look. For the past few months, I’d had constant stomach pain. At first, I brushed it off, popping painkillers like candy to get through the day. I told myself it was probably just stress or diet—something temporary. But the pain had grown worse… unbearable. So, today, I finally dragged myself to the hospital. I thought I’d walk out with some prescriptions and rest orders. Not this. “I’m already divorced,” I said firmly, lifting my chin. “So just tell me the truth.” I had signed the divorce papers this morning. My hands had trembled slightly, but my resolve was steady. There was no point holding on to a marriage that had already withered. And even if I hadn’t signed them, Everett wouldn’t have come. He hadn’t shown up for me in months. The doctor hesitated. “Miss Taylor… based on the test results… You have stomach cancer.” My breath caught. The room felt suddenly cold. I clutched the arms of the chair, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. “It’s… already at the last stage.” Her words crashed over me like a tidal wave. Cold. Merciless. Crushing. Last stage. I didn’t remember how I left the room. I just remembered the test reports digging into my hand, crumpling under the pressure of my clenched fist. My feet led me to the hospital lobby like I was sleepwalking, my vision swimming. And then, a voice from the television snapped me back into the real world. “Breaking news: Famous ballerina Amelia Martin was injured after a fall from the stage earlier today. She was quickly taken to the hospital by an unknown man—” The screen flickered, showing a blurry video clip of a man carrying her. His face wasn’t visible. But I didn’t need to see his face. I knew him by the curve of his shoulders. The way he walked. The way his hand cradled her head so protectively. Everett Robinson. My husban
