He Fell in Love After I Got Cancer

For three years, Emerie had been married to Allan, the son of an Alpha. Allan had always believed it was Emerie who drugged him, forcing him into the marriage. Determined to divorce her, he chose to be with her sister Jolene instead. But what he didn’t know was that Emerie was already terminally ill when she left him. When Allan finally uncovered the truth and desperately searched for her—could he still win her back?

– Diagnosis of Fate

“Miss Emerie, you understand what this means, don’t you?”

The healer’s voice was gentle, but Emerie barely heard it over the buzzing in her ears.

“No cure?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

The healer gave a sympathetic smile. “We can manage your pain. Six months, if we begin treatment immediately.”

Emerie nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around the paper cup. “Thank you.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She stood. “I’ll settle the bill.”

“No need today,” the healer said. “You should rest. Please—tell someone close to you.”

Emerie smiled politely. “Of course.” She walked out before the lies tasted bitter in her mouth.

The corridor outside felt impossibly long. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. Her boots echoed on the tile. And then—

“Emerie?”

She froze. That voice. She turned. Allan stood just ten feet away, one arm wrapped protectively around Jolene.

Jolene beamed. “What a surprise! Were you here for a check-up too?”

Emerie swallowed. “Just... routine tests.”

“You look pale,” Allan said.

She forced a smile. “Flu season.”

Jolene’s hand dropped to her belly. “Well, at least you’re here. We’re getting the sonogram today. Twelve weeks!”

“Congratulations,” Emerie said, her voice even.

Allan’s smile was faint. “Thanks.”

“I’ll let you two go. Don’t want to keep the baby waiting.”

“You sure?” Jolene tilted her head. “You could come see the image. It’s just a blob right now, but it’s our blob.”

Emerie’s stomach clenched. “Maybe another time.”

They disappeared into the obstetrics wing, pastel walls adorned with painted rabbits and bouncing foxes. Emerie stood still until the door clicked shut.

Then she pulled the diagnosis scroll from her pocket and pressed it to her chest.

No one would see her cry. Not today.

---

Back outside, snow drifted down in slow spirals. The cold soothed her flushed cheeks. She walked blindly, her boots crunching through slush, her mind spiraling faster than the snowflakes.

Allan had smiled at Jolene like that once—no, maybe he always had. Maybe he never stopped.

Her fingers brushed her pocket again. The scroll crackled. Six months.

She reached the gates of the pack’s central square and turned toward the woods, but a voice called from behind.

“Emerie, wait.”

She turned slowly. Allan jogged to catch up, brushing snow from his shoulders. “You didn’t say where you’re staying. You’ve looked tired lately. If you’re sick—”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“You’re not my husband today, are you? You’re Jolene’s partner now.”

He blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she murmured. “I’m just tired.”

“You’ve been off