CEO Brendan Harrington succumbed to the intoxicating allure of his high school sweetheart, Marisa, for three whole days. During those three days, he completely forgot his wife, Evelyn, waiting at home, as if she were an outdated relic. When he returned to their cold, palatial home, carrying the ambiguous scent Marisa had left on him, Evelyn was nowhere to be found. He merely thought casually, it was just another one of her usual long trips. A month later, with no word still, a ripple of impatience finally stirred in Brendan's heart. But this superficial "unease" was quickly shattered by the butler's low-voiced report: "Madam wants a divorce." Those four words pierced his complacent world like an ice pick. However, the truth behind Evelyn's "departure" was far more cruel than he could ever imagine. She hadn't left; she had been sentenced to death. The terrifying cancer diagnosis starkly stated: "Life expectancy: less than three months." Trembling, and with a final plea, she dialed his number, trying to pour out this heart-wrenching truth. On the other end of the line was his cold, detached voice, accompanied by Marisa's delicate embrace. Brendan, cradling his "injured" ex-lover in a hospital corridor, spoke words that cut her to the core: "Evelyn, I'm not a doctor. If you're sick, go see one. I'm very busy! Don't call me again!" She heard Marisa cough softly in his arms – a declaration of victory. A single divorce agreement was Evelyn's most resolute farewell to their five-year marriage. She silently packed her bags, each item once laden with vows, now mocking her. Walking out of the empty, sprawling house once filled with promises, her frame was frail. The butler's eyes flickered with pity and reluctance to see her go, but for her, there was only endless despair. Only then did Brendan awaken from his selfish "dream." His eyes darkened ominously as he commanded his assistant: "Find her, wherever she is." He paused, then arrogantly added, as if bestowing a favor: "If she agrees to come back, I will... *consider* apologizing to her." But some goodbyes in this world, once spoken, can never be unspoken. On the sterile white hospital bed, the feeble Evelyn could no longer hear his commands. Tears silently traced paths down her face, her voice as faint as a flickering candle in the wind: "I'm so tired... I just want to rest." On the monitor, the once-faint heart monitor line finally stretched into a stark, unbroken flatline. The tragedy of their five-year marriage had concluded in the cruelest possible way. But Brendan had only just begun his long purgatory.