ManyWriters

On the day we celebrated three years of marriage, I cunningly persuaded my spouse, Benedict Gabor, to put his signature on divorce documents.
My motivation stemmed from a medical diagnosis: stomach cancer with a life expectancy of only three months.
Benedict assumed I was just acting out. Irritated but unconcerned, he signed the papers before whisking his beloved Tylor Gabor away for a luxurious trip abroad.
When the reality of the situation finally dawned on him, Benedict employed various tactics - intimidation, manipulation, and even retaliation - in an attempt to win me back.
However, his efforts were in vain. The only farewell he received was at my memorial service, through a pre-recorded video message I had prepared.
"Benedict," my voice began on the recording, composed and unwavering, "if you're viewing this, it means I've passed away..."
It was on that day that the once-formidable and steadfast Benedict finally crumbled, losing his grip on reality.

The Vlogger's Last Laugh, A Terminal Love Triangle

In the final month of my life, I swallowed my ego. I endured Tylor's obvious taunts, acting as if I didn't notice.


However, she wasn't about to let me off lightly. One night, I found sharp blades concealed within my piano's keys.


When Benedict returned home, he witnessed me yelling at a tearful Tylor.


"Was this really necessary?" he reprimanded, his tone icy and harsh.


Wordlessly, I lifted my arm, revealing the blood trickling from my wrist.


"Benedict! Can't you see what she's..."


Before I could complete my sentence, Benedict's eyes fell on Tylor, shaking in the corner with a frightened expression. His face contorted with rage. Suddenly, I felt a stinging blow across my face.


"If your hand is hurt, seek medical attention. Stop causing a commotion here! You're truly just worthless, with no one to guide you properly!"


In that instant, all the self-esteem and drive I had accumulated throughout my life shattered.


The person I once relied on now regarded me with contempt.


"If you can't play the piano, then don't. It's merely a tool you use to seek attention anyway."


My frantic, desperate questioning only made me appear unhinged in his eyes.


He sneered, "How can you even compare yourself to Tylor? She plays piano because it's her passion. You? You only do it out of vanity and self-interest."


Tylor grabbed a water glass, dousing herself before smashing it on the ground.


With her wet face and quivering mouth, she looked miserable as she faced me. "Kendra, I didn't intend to... Is this enough for you?"


Benedict immediately rushed to her aid, embracing her as he guided her away to change clothes.


Before departing, he cast a cold look at me. "Kendra, Tylor is like family to me. Be careful."


His gaze lingered on my bleeding hand, softening momentarily.


Tylor seemed to notice this shift. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she fell dramatically into Benedict's arms.


"Tylor!" he cried out, his voice filled with alarm.


Without another word, he carried her away. That extinguished the last glimmer of hope in my heart.


Left on my own, I called a taxi and headed to the hospital to have my injuries treated.


Chapter 3