I slowly sit up from the bed and quickly head to the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, a scream escapes my lips at the sight of my body covered in bruises and hickeys. Now I understood better why Alexander had been so enraged. Yet, somehow, I didn’t feel guilty—after all, he had betrayed me first with Arlette.

As I walk toward the sink, a sharp pain shoots through my body, especially my stomach, as if knives were piercing me. It’s so intense that I can’t help but collapse to the floor, falling to my knees.

Cough, cough, cough.

I can’t stop coughing. Suddenly, I start sweating and vomit blood. At that moment, I remember the doctor’s instructions—he told me I needed to rest and take better care of myself. He had even advised me to be admitted to the hospital in the coming days because of my illness. But of course, I wouldn’t do that. If I was going to die, I didn’t want to spend my last days confined to a hospital like a prisoner. I wanted to live to the fullest, to make the most of