On My Funeral Day, My Husband Married His First Love

In the third year of my marriage to Dylan, a young, beautiful, energetic girl showed up with a pregnant belly.

"I'm pregnant with Dylan's baby. Be smart and divorce him voluntarily," she said.

"Divorce?" I laughed.

My laugh was rather weird.

Perhaps before the divorce day came, he would become a widower.

Because I had cancer. I was dying.

The day I was diagnosed with bile duct cancer, the sky was drizzling and foggy. It was just like my mood, which was ashen.

I held my phone, wanting several times to call Dylan and have a good cry.

Why was fate so cruel? I was just in my early thirties. How could I have such a terminal illness!

But I held back.

I couldn't tell him.

Even if I told him, what could he do?

The doctor said I had only three to five months left. Even if I told him, it wouldn't solve anything. It would only add to the sorrow and worries.

I didn't want to make him worry.

I didn't want to see him cry until his eyes were red.

I immediately decided to use the remaining time to say a proper goodbye to him.

But while I was still carefully planning, his lover showed up with her pregnant belly.

How ironic!

Dylan and I met when we were young. We promised each other forever during our naive years.

After graduation, I passionately joined him in starting a business.

I lived with him in a basement. I went with him to the vegetable wholesale market at 3 AM. I pushed a cart with him, selling burgers in cold winter.

Step by step, year after year.

I was with him as he went from a penniless boy to a nationwide restaurant tycoon with thousands of chain stores.

I stayed with him for ten years.

In the tenth year, he knelt before me with a dazzling diamond ring.

He shouted excitedly as if he wanted everyone to hear.

"Olivia, marry me!" he said.

He always said he would wait until he could give me a comfortable life before marrying me. He kept his word.

Even though I waited from my early twenties to my early thirties, I was still happy.

Even though the doctor said I was older, my health wasn't great. I was uncertain if I could conceive, but I wasn't too worried.

Dylan said he would take care of me like a daughter. It didn't matter if we had children or not.

I believed him.

But now?

The man who said he didn't care about children got another woman pregnant.

My heart felt like it was being stabbed, a pain a thousand times worse than the cancer inside me.

The pregnant girl seemed provoked by my smile. She immediately changed her expression and slammed the table in anger.

"You can't have children. What's the point of holding onto Mrs. Scott's title?

"Dylan stopped loving you long ago. He just couldn't bear to dump you because you've been with him through the tough times!

"If you're smart, you'll file for divorce yourself. You can still get some money. Otherwise...

"I'll make sure you don't get a penny!" she said.

She was young, but her tone was quite arrogant.

I held back my pain and splashed the coffee in her face. Then I turned and walked away.

As I was about to leave, I heard the girl crying and complaining to Dylan on the phone.

I didn't know what was said on the other end of the line, but the girl cooed, "I knew you were the best."

I suddenly felt dazed.

Once upon a time, I had said something like that to Dylan too.

But now, things had changed.

The man once treasured me and couldn't bear to see me shed a tear.

But now, he was comforting another girl.

I quickened my pace. As soon as I sat in the car, I couldn't hold back. I collapsed on the steering wheel and sobbed.

I cried even harder than the day I was diagnosed with cancer.

Ten years of hard work, three years of marriage, all for someone else.

On second thought, maybe this wasn't so bad.

At least now, I could leave without any attachments.

In the evening, Dylan came back.

He brought my favorite pink roses and the strawberry cake I loved.

He apologized and admitted his mistake. He said that night with the girl was just a drunken mistake. It meant nothing to him.

He told me to rest assured. He would take care of everything.

I smiled understandingly. "The child is innocent," I said.

His dim eyes suddenly lit up with shock and joy.

"Olivia, you're willing to accept the child?" he asked.

What did that have to do with me?

I was about to die.

After I died, they could live happily as a family of three. How wonderful!

They say a man's ultimate dream is to be promoted, get rich, and have his wife die.

He was about to achieve all three.

Shouldn't I congratulate him in advance?

I generously allowed Dylan's lover to move into the villa. I arranged for the top care team to look after her needs.

I even advised Dylan to visit the girl more often. She needed care at this time, or she might develop prenatal depression.

Dylan looked serious and conflicted. He held my hand tightly. "Olivia, it's all for the child. When she gives birth, we'll take the baby and raise it. Then you'll be the mother," he said.

I smiled and nodded. "Whatever you say."

Watching his eager departure, I couldn't help but think, "Once the child is born and I'm gone, how will he feel when he recalls today?"

With my permission, Dylan visited the Hernandez villa more and more frequently.

Sometimes I wouldn't see him for ten days to half a month.

Because of this, I could spend countless nights vomiting uncontrollably.

My condition had worsened rapidly. My attending doctor said it was progressing much faster than expected.

How could it not?

I forced a smile.

My husband was cheating. The mistress was pressing for the throne. I still had to act like nothing was wrong and handle business as usual at the company, staying busy day and night.

Even a healthy person would collapse under such circumstances.

Let alone a terminal cancer patient.

My doctor advised me to be hospitalized, but what was the point?

My only family had betrayed me. Whether I lived or died, no one cared anymore.

Dragging it out for a few more months wouldn't change anything.

Instead of living in pain and suffering, it would be better to die quickly and spare myself from seeing Mary flaunting her love on social media every day.

Oh, I forgot to mention, that pregnant girl who came to confront me is called Mary.

She claimed to be the best gift for Dylan this summer.

How romantic.

If I were half as romantic as she was, Dylan might not have cheated.

But sadly, none of that mattered anymore.

Because I had someone look into her past and discovered some very interesting things.

The little girl had met many rich secondgeneration heirs and wealthy bosses while still in college. Dylan was just one of them.

And the child in her belly?

I laughed.

Surprises always come so unexpectedly.

I wondered if Dylan would still feel the joy of being a father once he knew.

The Hernandez villa was no longer enough for Mary's ambition and greed.

She came to my home and confronted me. Her arms crossed, arrogantly demanding, "Give up the house! The baby and I will live here!"