He Learned to Love After My Funeral

He Learned to Love After My Funeral

Ladys · Completed · 8.5k Words

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Introduction

My marriage to Matthew was a transaction, a substitute—everything except love. When his white moonlight came back, I was abandoned, diagnosed with gastric cancer, and carrying his child. His late regret could never bring back my life, nor could it keep our unborn baby.

Chapter 1

Our marriage was nothing more than a transaction with a clear price tag. I needed money to save my mom's life, and he needed an obedient wife.

During our one-year marriage, I learned to love everything about him, even though he didn't love me.

Until his first love returned from abroad and he handed me divorce papers. I refused his parting gift and said goodbye with a smile.

He didn't know I was carrying his child. He knew even less that I had stomach cancer.

When we met again, it was at a hospice center. He knelt by my hospital bed, crying and begging for my forgiveness.

I said, "Matthew, if there's a next life..."

"No, I don't want a next life. I only ask for this one. I'd give everything I have just for you to look back at me once."

So some people only learn to cherish what they have after losing it.

Too bad some love comes to light when it's already too late.

Chapter 1

The late-night storm poured down like it wanted to tear the city apart.

I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, watching outside. The whole city was soaked in sheets of rain, the lights blurred into fuzzy patches of color, just like my shattered heart right now.

My phone screen suddenly lit up, especially harsh in the dim space.

[Tomorrow ,9 AM, City Hall. Bring your passport and ring.]

Looking at this message, my heart truly died.

One year of marriage, over four hundred days and nights, and in the end, all I got was this emotionless notification.

I took a sip of the whiskey sitting nearby. The burning sensation spread from my throat to my chest, but it couldn't suppress the dull ache in my heart. I'd known this day would come.

It started the night of our wedding when Matthew got an overseas call from Sarah and spent the whole night on the balcony quietly comforting her. It continued when his phone wallpaper stayed Sarah's photo, even after I hinted multiple times that I hoped he'd change it. And when he got drunk and held me, his hot breath on my neck, but mumbled Sarah's name...

I was just a substitute. This marriage began as a transaction and ended as a scheme.

On the window glass, my reflection overlapped with the lights outside. It was hard to tell which was more unreal.

This deep red silk nightgown I was wearing was something Matthew had casually tossed to me last week, with a birthday message scrawled on the tag, not even wrapped.

Too bad that the one time he bothered to give a gift, he got the date wrong. That day wasn't even my birthday. Today was.

At 2 AM, the sound of the door opening.

Footsteps carrying dampness and heavy alcohol approached, along with an unfamiliar sweet perfume scent.

"Still awake?" Matthew's voice was hoarse as he pulled off his tie and tossed it on the couch.

"Waiting for you," I turned around, trying to keep my voice steady. "Though I didn't expect you'd actually come home."

"Don't be late tomorrow."

He avoided my eyes and walked straight to the bar, pouring himself a whiskey. "The lawyer's all set. You'll get fifty million in your account. Enough for the rest of your life."

"Mr. George is so generous."

I laughed lightly, though the smile didn't reach my eyes. "Was I worth that much this past year?"

Matthew's hand paused while pouring. His profile looked cold and hard in the dim light.

"Mary, don't talk about yourself like that."

"Then how should I put it?"

I walked closer. The perfume smell got stronger, like an invisible announcement. "That we were a transaction where we both got what we needed? I needed money to save my mom, you needed an obedient wife to deal with your family's pressure to get married, and also... to push the woman you really wanted to marry to come back?"

The glass hit the counter hard with a harsh sound.

"Enough." Matthew's eyes turned cold as he turned to face me. "After tomorrow, we'll have nothing to do with each other."

"Nothing to do with each other?"

I laughed out loud, but tears fell without warning. "Matthew, this whole year, I tried so hard to please you, to remember what you like. When your stomach hurt, I stayed up all night with you. When you got drunk at business dinners, I took care of you every time. Even when you threw up all over me, I never complained once. And now you say we have nothing to do with each other?"

I grabbed his hand and pressed it hard against my chest. "My heart only has you in it, every day, every second. You tell me, how do we have nothing to do with each other?"

Under his palm was my racing heartbeat, separated only by the thin silk fabric, almost burning his skin.

Matthew's fingers trembled slightly, but he yanked his hand back like he'd touched something dirty.

"Mary, don't do this."

He turned away, his back to me, his voice dropping. "You know what our marriage is."

"I know!"

I lost control and raised my voice. "It's a contract! It's a transaction! But I thought at least after spending this whole year together, you would see me, you would have just a little bit..."

"No." Matthew cut me off without mercy, shattering my last hope. "I never loved you, not for a moment. I only married you to deal with my family. Now that Sarah's back, this act should end."

The room was left with only the sound of rain hitting the glass, and the muffled sound of a heart breaking.

I stepped back, my spine hitting the cold glass window.

The chill instantly pierced through the fabric, but I couldn't feel the cold. I just felt completely hollowed out, even the pain becoming numb.

I looked at this familiar yet strange man in front of me and suddenly felt like I'd been a joke this whole year.

But then again, I couldn't really blame Matthew. After all, our marriage was a clearly priced transaction from the start.

The person I should blame most is myself—for forgetting my original purpose in this transaction, for catching real feelings...

Still, it was time for me to leave. I don't regret it. But Matthew, you'd better not regret it either.

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