The Home I Can Never Return To

Chapter 1

The day I got my terminal lung cancer diagnosis, I lost my husband, Chad’s, cat—a cat his ex-girlfriend had given him.

“Lily,” he said, “if you can’t find the cat, don’t come back!”

I died outside, never making it back to our house.

I’d been coughing for ages, had ringing in my ears too, but I’d put it off. The doctor looked grim. “Why did you wait so long to come in?” he asked.

“I thought it was allergies,” I said. “To the cat.”

He looked confused. “Allergies? And you still keep a cat?”

“Yeah.”

Chad’s cat. His ex’s cat.

I left the hospital in a daze. Chad hadn’t closed the bedroom door properly that morning, and the cat, “Jade,” had snuck in.

His ex-girlfriend had named her. Jade was a total drama queen, only affectionate towards Chad. When he wasn’t home, she’d curl up on his side of the bed. And I, allergic to cats, would cough and sneeze. This time, it was different.

I woke up coughing, a deep, painful ache in my lungs. When I saw the blood, I freaked out.

I never imagined a simple allergy could lead to this. The doctor told me I had terminal lung cancer, already metastasized to my brain. That was the real reason for the cough and hearing loss.

After the hospital, I wandered the streets, aimless. My body felt heavy, weak, failing. I felt like I was dying, even though this morning I’d felt fine.

I pulled out a cigarette, then put it back.

I got home, took my meds, crawled under the covers, my mind blank. The light faded from the window. When I opened my eyes again, Chad was there.

His cold gaze was fixed on me. He was talking, but I couldn’t hear him clearly at first. I just saw his lips moving, his whole demeanor tense.

“Huh?”

“And,” he said, “the front door was open, Jade’s gone. Do you know that?”

I managed, “Did you look for her inside?”

Jade hated going outside but loved to hide and watch. She was probably somewhere in the house.

“Do you think?” he retorted. “Why didn’t you close the door? Were you trying to get rid of her?”

“What?”

I think I was hallucinating too. Who would leave the door open on purpose?

I sighed. “I didn’t mean to.”

I was dying, I hadn’t even noticed the door. I didn’t intend to lose Jade. I’d put up with it for seven years, what difference did a few days make?

But I couldn’t say that. I didn’t want to upset him, or worse, that he wouldn’t be upset.

Chad was furious with my indifference. “Lily, it’s just a cat! Why are you making such a big deal about it?”

It wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever said, but it stung. Usually, I’d apologize, try to smooth things over. But I was exhausted.

I needed him to comfort me.

“What if I was?” I asked, looking at him, my voice flat. “You know I’m allergic. It wouldn’t have been hard to give her to family or a friend.”

He stared, then his eyes narrowed.

“Do you know what you’re saying? If you couldn’t handle Jade in the first place, don’t say those things. You know what I hate most.”

I fell silent.

I knew.

Chad frowned. “Lily, if Jade’s gone, don’t come back.”

He slammed the door. My hopes crumbled.

Suddenly, everything clicked. Seven years, and I was still less important than his ex’s cat.

Chad hated lies. Promises had to be kept, or he’d be impossible.

In college, I’d promised to celebrate his birthday with him. On his birthday, waiting for him after class, I saw through a window his girlfriend, Jessica, leaning towards him. He didn’t pull away. He caught my eye through the glass, and I turned and walked away.

I expected an apology, but he blocked me on everything. He was cold for a long time, ignoring my apologies. I thought we were over.

Then, one night, waiting for him in the rain, without an umbrella, he walked past me, his back straight and cold, disappearing into the crowd.

I whispered to the rain, “Chad, I’m done.”

I cried, walking into the rain, until strong hands pulled me into an embrace.

I gasped, breathless. Chad shielded me from a security guard’s flashlight.

I clung to him, sobbing, tiptoeing…

He impatiently wiped my tears. “Stop crying.”

“Chad,” I whispered, “Please don’t be mad.”

He chuckled, his face cold and distant. “Huh. You’re afraid of me getting mad?”

I clutched his shirt, tiptoeing close; he moved, my nose bumping his chin.

“Chad, I’ll spend every birthday with you. I promise.”

He looked down. “I swear! A thousand needles if I lie!”

He carried me to the dorm. Every time we made up, we were even closer than before, but it only lasted a while.

“Chad, I love you.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Do you love me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Then… why didn’t you push her away?”

He paused. “What are you implying? You think I’m indiscriminate?”

My cold hand touched his face. “No. You have so many options. I’m scared.”

“Lily, you’re my girlfriend. What’s to be scared of?”

We made up. After that, I kept every promise to Chad. Including promising at the wedding that I would never make him get rid of the cat.

I hadn’t really wanted him to get rid of Jade. I just… wanted him to comfort me.

He must hate me again.

Chad’s hatred of lies stemmed from his ex, Brenda. She’d cheated on him for months, seeing someone else.

They were childhood sweethearts, top of their classes in high school, from similar backgrounds. Everyone assumed they’d get together. Brenda went to a nearby college. She came to Chad’s class once, strikingly beautiful.

She was also a cheater. Not only that, but Chad didn’t find out himself, a high school friend had seen them and even taken pictures.

Chad, proud and spoiled, couldn’t tolerate it. Their breakup was dramatic. He went to the other guy’s college and beat him up.

After Brenda, Chad changed. He seemed incapable of real love. Yet, he stayed with me for seven years.

I kept testing Brenda’s importance in his life. I pretended to accidentally break a cup she’d given him. He blew up at me.

I remembered his words: “I already married you, what more do you want?”

Maybe it wasn’t anger, but truth. I never touched anything of his ex’s again, not even the cat. She was his line in the sand.

Seven years in our house, and I was still an outsider. I thought my love would erase his memories of her.

I thought we’d be together forever.

I was wrong.

I got out of bed and went to look for the cat. My cancer wasn’t an excuse for my carelessness.

I searched the whole apartment but couldn’t find her. My body ached; the cough wouldn’t stop. I sat by a dumpster.

Chad had said if I couldn’t find Jade, don’t come back. I felt discarded.

Ginkgo leaves covered the ground. No one cared about a single leaf, just like no one cared about me.

Even Jade, a grumpy cat, had someone who cared. But no one cared for me. Would Chad look for me if I disappeared?

My legs were numb. I remembered a resident had seen a stray cat in the parking garage. I went there.

I saw Chad’s ex, crying in the passenger seat, him comforting her, his usually cold expression softened.

Pain overwhelmed me. My heart wasn’t hurting anymore, just my lungs.

I hid behind a pillar, fighting back the cough, tears, and snot. A mess. Thankfully, he didn’t see me.

I was more tired than upset, wanting to escape, but there was nowhere to go.

I dragged myself home. I didn’t care about the cat anymore. I just wanted to rest. I was so tired.

I went to the guest room, opening the bottom drawer, and there was Jade, asleep.

Relief washed over me. She wasn’t lost. I realized I was still terrified of making him angry. It was instinct.

Jade woke up. She looked at me, meowing apologetically.

I reached out to pet her. Before I touched her, I started coughing, tasting blood. Jade meowed louder.

I gently touched her head; she didn’t flinch, rubbing against my hand.

I took her out, and she was surprisingly calm. She hated being held, even with Chad.

She was a spoiled cat.

I tried not to cough, afraid of scaring her.

The moment I put her down, she backed away.

It hit me. She was afraid I’d be in pain.

I cried. Jade had empathy; Chad didn’t.

She stared at me, her little face serious.

“I’m okay,” I told her. “I’m just sick. Don’t worry.”

I took my diagnosis papers into the kitchen, soaked them in the sink and threw them in the trash.

I fed Jade, then a coughing fit hit. Blood flowed from my mouth. I collapsed by the toilet, sobbing.

If Chad were here, it wouldn’t hurt so much. I wanted to hug him. He was better than any painkiller.

But he wouldn’t come back. He was comforting his ex.

Jade paced outside the bathroom, hesitant to enter.

After cleaning up, I texted Chad, telling him Jade was home. He didn’t reply.

I waited. It was nine; he hadn’t come home. I hadn’t eaten all day. Had Chad eaten?

He had a bad stomach. His ex had wrecked his digestive system.

Seven years, and I couldn’t even fix that. He didn’t like my cooking, he didn’t like me.

I knew. I’d seen him love someone.

I didn’t expect him to reconnect with Brenda. Their breakup had been so ugly. He was so proud; could he forgive cheating?

What were they doing in the parking lot? Seven years apart—they must have a lot to talk about.

I made congee.

Around ten, Chad came home, smelling of perfume that wasn’t mine. Jade went to him, circling and rubbing against his legs. He picked her up and kissed her head.

I envied Jade. She had the courage to approach him. I was jealous too. She’d been lost for a short while and received so much attention.

What about Brenda? Seven years of love and longing?

I watched silently.

“I’ll give Jade away soon,” he said abruptly.

To Brenda?

I didn’t ask.

“It’s okay if you don’t.”

It didn’t matter, Chad. I didn’t want your answer anymore.

“I made congee. You can eat some.”

Jade jumped away from Chad. His face darkened. I realized he thought I’d hurt her.

I laughed. “Chad, we’ve been together for seven years, and you think I’m a cat abuser?”

He rubbed his temples, wanting no interaction.

“That’s not what I meant.”

I said nothing. He went to the kitchen.

I stood in the corner, watching him like a ghost, saying, “Chad, you don’t have to eat my cooking if you don’t like it.”

Just like you don’t have to love me or marry me. Divorce if you want. But…

Don’t make me feel like I’m always wrong. Don’t make me feel like I’m an outsider. Don’t make me… so sad.

Sadder than death.

He looked at me, a sneer on his face. He tossed the spoon into the sink, then the congee into the trash. I heard him speak, but couldn’t hear what he said. The ringing started again.

I fell silent. Before I died, my love died too.

That night, I was alone in the guest room. I coughed all night. The soundproofing was excellent; he couldn’t hear. But I heard Jade scratching at the door. I finally fell asleep as dawn broke.

I dreamed of college, of passing out from heatstroke, falling into someone’s arms. Everyone was teasing.

I remembered his dry voice, a whisper near my ear: “I have a girlfriend.” But he carried me to the infirmary.

I whispered, “Sorry, I’m heavy.”

“Not at all.”

The dream ended. I woke crying. If only time had stopped then. My lungs hurt, my whole body ached.

I made congee again, as if nothing happened. Chad left without looking at me.

I lay on the balcony, wearing an eye mask. My best friend, Sarah, called, wanting to know about Chad and his ex. She almost slapped him at his company.

The autumn wind was cold, cutting into my lungs. I coughed.

Sarah said, “Just get rid of that cat, Lily. You’ll cough yourself to death.”

I covered my chest, trying to control my voice.

“Sarah, don’t worry. Chad and I are over. Even if he gets back together with his ex, I don’t care. Don’t cause trouble for him, he might fire you.”

Jade was cuter than Chad, so she wasn’t going anywhere.

“What? When did you get a brain? Did eighteen years of being a poor, neglected wife finally get to you?”

I laughed. “Don’t be silly. Get back to work.”

“Okay! But you’re not divorced yet. Everyone will laugh at you if they hear about it. But hey, this marriage is done!”

“Okay.”

The cat incident led to a cold war. I’d always apologized first, but now, I was too busy hurting everywhere, dizzy, vomiting, coughing up blood, and hearing nothing.

I quit my job and became a homebody, sunbathing. Pretending to be normal exhausted me. Chad had no idea. Was I really that good of an actress?

Late at night, Chad opened the guest room door. He smelled of alcohol and that unknown perfume.

I coughed as he approached, pushing him away, fearing I would vomit blood. He fell to the floor. He was drunk, but it looked like I’d pushed him hard.

“Lily, please don’t…”

I couldn’t hear him. Seeing him dejected, I softened.

“The floor’s cold.” I offered my hand. His hand was warm.

“Go shower. I’ll make you some hangover soup.”

He held my hand.

He pulled a candy from his pocket, placing it on my hand.

It was a foreign brand, very sour. Brenda’s favorite. I’d seen it on her social media.

But Chad, I have a toothache; I can’t eat sour things.

After Chad showered, he seemed sober, sitting quietly at the table in his pajamas.

“Drink it and go to bed,” I said, placing the soup in front of him.

He took a spoonful and spat it out.

“Lily, if you don’t want to do it, don’t.” He slumped in his chair, disappointed.

I grabbed the bowl and dumped it in the sink.

“Then find someone who makes better soup. Don’t drink mine.”

Chad’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“What was it with Brenda at Sarah’s company?” Did Sarah tell me about your reconciliation to force me to make room for Brenda?

He froze, then looked confused, less angry.

“She’s my assistant now. I can…”

I cut him off.

“Chad, you could have just told me. I understand. I can let you go.”

He stared, a sarcastic smile on his lips.

“You’re awfully understanding.”

His face was unfamiliar. We’d been together for seven years, and I still didn’t know him.

“Chad, our anniversary is in two days. Let’s go hiking, to that mountain from college.”

He seemed stunned, but said, “Sure.”

Hiking would be hard for me. Fortunately, there was a cable car. I texted Chad, arranging to meet at the summit.

He called much later.

“Lily, something came up at work. I can’t make it. Go home early.”

Work or Brenda?

“Chad, if you don’t come, let’s get a divorce.”

“Lily!” Chad roared. “Brenda fell and is hurt. I can’t go. And don’t use that to threaten me.”

He hung up.

Threaten him? It wasn’t the first time I mentioned divorce. Seven years, three married, we’d talked about it before. I used to be impulsive. He wasn’t fond of me then, but he didn’t hate me.

When he started his business, he’d come home late from dinners, his suit jacket stained with lipstick. I was furious, even knowing it wasn’t cheating, but I lost my temper.

I threw his suit on the floor, crying, saying if he went out again, we’d divorce.

He sat on the sofa in a white shirt, tired, cold eyes on me.

“Suit yourself.”

He took my love for granted. I could see his unspoken question: Do you have the heart?

I did. How could I give up on the man I loved? My investment was too high.

He hadn’t changed; he’d taken my love for granted. But I had.

I didn’t want to die as his wife. I could be anyone, but not his lover again.

I would rather die.