The truth arrived in a room that smelled faintly of antiseptic and quiet resignation.
Aurelia sat across from the doctor, her hands folded neatly on her lap.
She noticed how calm she felt, how strange that calmness was.
The doctor spoke slowly, choosing words meant to soften something that could not be softened.
The illness had progressed further than expected.
Treatment could ease the pain, but it would not save her.
Even with intervention, time was no longer generous.
"One month," the doctor said gently.
The words hovered in the air, heavy and final.
Aurelia nodded once.
She did not cry.
She did not ask why.
She only asked one question.
"Will it be painful?"
The doctor hesitated.
"We'll do everything we can to make you comfortable."
That was answer enough.
She walked out of the hospital alone.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in soft hues of gold and fading blue.
People passed by her, laughing, rushing, living.
Aurelia moved through them like a ghost.
One month.
She counted the days in her head, not with fear, but with quiet organization.
Enough time to prepare.
Not enough time to be missed.
She decided then.
Kaelric would not know.
Not because she was afraid of his reaction, but because she refused to let her final days be filled with his guilt.
She had endured enough cruelty.
She would not ask for tenderness now, when it came too late.
At home, Kaelric barely noticed her return.
"You're back early," he remarked, eyes on his phone.
"Yes," she replied.
He glanced at her briefly, then frowned.
"You look pale."
"I'm tired."
He nodded, uninterested, and walked past her.
That night, Aurelia packed a small box. Letters she never sent.
Photos no one else cared about.
Things that proved she had existed.
She placed it neatly at the back of the closet.
When I'm gone, she thought,
let this be the only evidence.
As days passed, Kaelric grew sharper.
He stayed out longer.
His words cut deeper. It was as if he sensed something slipping from his control and responded with cruelty.
One evening, during an argument that started over nothing, he said, "Stop acting like you're already dead."
The words struck her like a blade.
Aurelia stared at him, lips trembling, but she said nothing.
If only you knew, she thought.
Instead, she bowed her head and walked away.
That night, she wrote in her journal.
Aurelia:
One month is a strange amount of time.
Too short to fix a broken marriage.
Too long to pretend I am not dying.
I will leave this world the same way I lived in this house.
Quietly.