Classic Novel
Chapter 1
Chapter 1 She Is Dying
“Ms. McCoy, is your family here with you?” the doctor asked.
Dahlia McCoy was baffled as she wondered, ‘I’m just here to get my medical report. Why do I need someone to accompany me? Besides, what family do I have?’
Dahlia’s mother Lyla McCoy died giving birth to her, her father Craig McCoy saw her as nothing more than a means to earn money, and her elder brother Curtis McCoy, filled with resentment, wrongfully blamed her for their mother’s demise. As for her lover, she earned him herself. The concept of “family” was a distant memory, only revived when the doctor unexpectedly mentioned it.
Dahlia was stunned for a moment and then shook her head. “I’m all alone.”
Frowning, the doctor adjusted her glasses and let out a heavy sigh, her eyes filled with sympathy and resignation. She then handed Dahlia the stack of test reports from the table.
“Ms. McCoy, the test results are out. You have terminal stomach cancer,” the doctor announced.
She seemed to be pitying the woman who was terminally ill at such a young age, as her words and actions were notably cautious and considerate.
Dahlia’s breath caught. Taking the test reports, she frowned while examining the indices on them. Though not a medical student, she could discern the severity of her stomach’s condition.
In reality, she had a vague sense of foreboding during the gastroscopy, but she refrained from delving too deeply into it.
The doctor pointed to the pictures on the report and explained to Dahlia her condition. As she listened with a sense of detachment, Dahlia nonchalantly concluded that she didn’t have much time left and needed to be promptly admitted to the hospital for chemotherapy.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.
Dahlia was well aware of the life expectancy of a patient with terminal stomach cancer, having witnessed her grandfather’s two-year struggle in a hospital bed before he passed away.
The doctor kindly suggested, “Ms. McCoy, I suggest you be hospitalized as soon as possible.”
“Is it curable if I get admitted?” Dahlia’s voice sounded hoarse, and her expression appeared numb as if she was speaking to herself.
The doctor said nothing but shook her head, seemingly hesitant to reveal the answer.
‘Then I won’t proceed with the treatment,’ Dahlia thought as she licked her dry lips and stood up, stuffing all the medical reports into her bag.
She thanked the doctor and turned to leave the diagnosis room.
As Dahlia exited the hospital, she was met with a steady rain. The light drizzle, coupled with a brisk wind, felt sharp against her skin, reminiscent of small, piercing blades. She retrieved an umbrella from her bag and opened it, but it was hardly effective against the slanting, icy rain.
Despite it being March when the cold shouldn’t have been too severe, Dahlia experienced a profound chill. It was as though the coldness emanated from within her, spreading through her bloodstream and reaching every part of her body.
Her fingers were red from the cold. She held the umbrella in one hand while clenching the other into a fist in her pocket, yet she couldn’t seem to warm it.
Dahlia wandered aimlessly, idly turning the ring on her ring finger as she gazed at the overcast sky. The weather in Radford changed so swiftly that, before she even realized it, spring had arrived. ‘Spring is the season teeming with life for all creatures. How come I’m dying now?’ she mused.
Dahlia hailed a taxi by the side of the road. As the taxi came to a stop, she leisurely stowed her umbrella before opening the back door and taking a seat.
The driver turned around and asked her, “Where are we going?”
“Zone C, Halfur,” Dahlia answered, keeping her head low.
After a while, Dahlia couldn’t help but open her bag and look at the pictures on the medical reports.
She found it hard to believe that the grotesquely contorted stomach in the picture was part of her body.
Her stomach cancer was a product of prolonged hunger. During her four years of marriage to Edmund Carlton, Dahlia had been earnestly preparing his favorite dishes, catering them to his preferences. She held onto the hope that when he returned and saw the dishes she had keenly prepared, her efforts would move him and soften his demeanor toward her even if he didn’t love her.
Unfortunately, Edmund didn’t want to have a meal with her at all. Even so, she didn’t feel dejected and persisted in preparing meals daily and sent timely texts, eagerly anticipating his return. However, before his return materialized, she received the diagnosis of stomach cancer.
Tears finally poured from her eyes. Dahlia sniffed, having used to think she was strong enough to face the storm.
But that day, all her strong façade crumbled into pieces. Having stomach spasms, Dahlia curled up, unable to suppress the tremors. She gritted her teeth and let out deep sobs.
The driver heard the sound of sobbing and looked up at the rearview mirror. He saw that Dahlia curled up, her slender frame constantly trembling, and the atmosphere in the car seemed to be sucked away by her despair. It was the first time he had seen someone cry so desperately.
“What’s the matter, miss? Brokenhearted, or a bad day at work?” the driver asked.
Receiving no response from Dahlia, he continued, “There is nothing that can’t be overcome. Come on, crying won’t solve the problem. Go back and have a good rest. Tomorrow is a brand new day.”
Dahlia raised her head and said bitterly, “Thank you.” She didn’t expect to be comforted by a stranger after she got diagnosed with a terminal illness.
The driver simply smiled, maintained silence, and concentrated on driving. Upon reaching Halfur, he parked his car in a temporary parking space.
The trip took half an hour, and the total fare was 14 dollars. Dahlia scanned the QR code for payment and exited the car. Subsequently, she tore the medical reports in her hand into shreds and discarded them into the dustbin.
A cold breeze swept by, and Dahlia wiped away the dried tears on her face. She regained her composure and maturity, yet her eyes remained slightly red and swollen, her face pale.