Okay, I’m listening.

— These are the divorce papers.

I looked at him, in disbelief.

— Seriously? Couldn’t you wait at least until after the surgery?

— No. I’m tired of waiting. I’ll read the papers to you, and you’ll sign them.

He read, and I cried. I didn’t cry because of the illness, nor out of fear of death, but because of betrayal. He didn’t notice my tears, he just kept reading as if I didn’t exist. With trembling hands, I signed the papers. He turned and left without even saying goodbye.