The Love That Never Was Novel by Silas Night _ Novel





The Love That Never Was Chapter 01

Married to Kevin Smith for three years, I personally helped him win back his first love.
On the eve of their wedding, I was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer.
I didn't tell anyone, just quietly prepared their wedding for them, ordering flowers, choosing the hotel, and fitting the wedding dress.
When his first love walked toward him in the dress I picked, I was at the hospital signing a do-not-resuscitate order.
On the day of my funeral, Kevin found a faded group photo under my pillow.
On the back, it read: In our freshman year of high school, I was also your first love.
......
When I got the terminal liver cancer diagnosis, Kevin was picking out a tie for the celebration banquet. It was dark red, glaringly red, looking exactly like the mouthful of blood I had just coughed up onto a tissue.
The doctor told me to be hospitalized immediately, but I refused. Walking out of the hospital gates, the sun baked the asphalt mercilessly, and the heat waves distorted my vision. I crumpled the diagnosis sheet into a ball, threw it into the recycling bin, and turned to text Kevin: "Choose the dark blue tie, it's more mature."
He replied instantly with a voice message, the background filled with cheers and the crisp clinking of glasses: "Sophia Williams, it's done! Fernanda Bennett agreed to get back together with me! We have to have a drink tonight, you're the biggest contributor and can't be absent."
I stared at the audio waves on the screen, my fingers hovering over the words "I'm sick" for half a minute, before finally deleting them completely. I replied with a single word: "Okay."
Kevin and I had been married for three years. Everyone in our circle said I was Kevin's dog, biting whoever he pointed at. He said he wanted to build his career, so I stayed up all night with him, drank heavily with clients, and pulled the Smith Group back from the brink of bankruptcy. He said he couldn't forget his first love Fernanda, so I put away all my feelings, helped him create chance encounters, picked out gifts for him, and even planned his confession.
Now that he had gotten what he wanted, it was time for me to bow out. I owed him nothing.
When I got home, Kevin wasn't back yet. The house was filled with photos of Fernanda. Hanging on the walls, sitting on the tables, and even next to the shoes I had just taken off, stood a massive picture frame. Kevin had specially arranged all this to welcome Fernanda. He said he wanted Fernanda to feel the moment she walked in that his heart hadn't changed in these three years.
A dull pain in my abdomen began to drill upward, like a blunt knife sawing back and forth. I bent over, clutching my stomach, cold sweat dripping down my forehead, my eyes falling on a glass of cold water on the coffee table. Just as I reached out for it, the door lock clicked.
Kevin burst in, reeking of alcohol and perfume, his face flushed with excitement. He tore off his tie and spun around the living room in pure joy.
"Sophia! Do you know? She cried! When she saw the star jars I prepared, she just cried!" He rushed over and gripped my shoulders tightly, the force so strong it made me frown. "Thanks to your idea! She said we broke up back then because she thought I wasn't attentive enough, but now she sees how I've changed."
His shaking made me nauseous. I fought back the churning in my stomach and forced a smile. "Congratulations."
Kevin didn't notice anything wrong with me. He let go, strode over to the wine cabinet, and opened a vintage bottle of red wine. "Come on, have a drink with me."
I looked at the red liquid, and my stomach cramped even harder. The doctor had warned me absolutely not to touch alcohol. "I'll pass, I'm a bit tired."
Kevin paused his pouring, turned to look at me, his brows furrowing with a hint of dissatisfaction in his eyes. "Sophia, why are you being such a killjoy on a day like this? You used to drink with clients until your stomach bled without a single complaint. Why are you acting so delicate today?"
The past was the past. I used to think that as long as I treated him desperately well, I could eventually warm up this cold stone. Now the stone was warm, but for someone else.
"I really can't drink." I turned around, wanting to go back to my room.
Kevin strode over in a few steps, blocking my way, and shoved the wine glass into my hand. "Just one glass. Fernanda is moving in in a couple of days, and this house will need to be cleared out to be her bridal home. This glass of wine is to celebrate me finding my true love again, and also to celebrate you... regaining your freedom."
Freedom. What a beautiful word.
I looked down at the swirling red liquid in the glass, which reflected my sallow face that couldn't be concealed. Kevin didn't even notice that I had lost so much weight I was practically unrecognizable, nor did he notice how heavy my makeup was today to cover up my sickly pallor. His mind was entirely filled with Fernanda.
"Fine, after I drink this, I'll get out of your hair." I tilted my head back and downed it in one gulp.
The spicy liquid burned down my throat and immediately exploded in my stomach. The pain instantly escalated, and I let out an uncontrollable dry heave. Kevin took a step back, his eyes full of revulsion.
"Alright, go rest since you're done drinking. You still have to accompany Fernanda to try on wedding dresses tomorrow. You have good taste, so help her pick."
My fingers gripping the empty glass turned white. Asking his current wife to accompany his first love to try on wedding dresses. Kevin, you're really something.
"Kevin," I called out to him as he was about to go to the balcony to make a call, "if I died one day, would you be sad?"
He didn't stop walking, didn't even turn his head, his tone completely nonchalant. "Why are you saying such unlucky things on such a joyous occasion? If you die, I'll buy you the best cemetery plot, okay?"
After saying that, he slid open the French doors and gently called out "Fernanda" to the person on the phone.
I stood frozen in place, the severe pain making it impossible to straighten my back. A metallic sweetness surged up my throat; I clamped my mouth shut and swallowed it down raw.
The best cemetery plot. Very well, that counts as a promise too.

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