Chapter 9 — After Menopause, I Found Out I Was Pregnant

The smile was pale but very warm. That's when I found out she had ovarian cancer and had gone through several rounds of chemotherapy. We were in the same situation so we quickly became closer. In the evening, while I was sleeping, the hospital room door was suddenly pushed open from the outside. I had difficulty opening my eyes. There is a person standing at the door. It's Chu Chi Minh. He looks very haggard. His chin was covered with green beard, his eyes were bloodshot and red. He stared at me, his eyes filled with shock, confusion, and a kind of panic that I couldn't read. His eyes moved from my pale face to the needle stuck in the back of my hand. Finally stopping on the bedside card. On it was clearly written in black ink: Patient's name. And diagnose the disease.

“Cancer… trophoblastic cancer…”

He muttered those two words, his body immediately staggered violently, almost unable to stand. I looked at him coldly and said nothing. He finally knew. He walked towards me step by step, his steps were unsteady.

“Trinh Tranh…”

His voice was hoarse.

“What…what is this?”

“Why… why are you here?”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

I looked at him, suddenly feeling extremely funny. Tell me? What should I say? Tell him I have cancer so he can look at me with pity? Or say that what's in my stomach is not an evil species... But a tumor?

“Get out.”

I softly spit out two words. My voice is not loud. But it's so cold that no objection is allowed. He was stunned.

“Trinh Tranh, please listen to my explanation…”

“I told you to get out!”

I suddenly raised my voice louder, because I was so excited that my chest was heaving violently.

“Chu Chi Minh, I don't want to see you.”

My scream was hoarse and sharp like a rusty blade. Tearing through the dead silence in the hospital room. It also tore away the last trace of blood on Chu Chi Minh's face. The girl in the next bed was awakened and panicked, poking her head out of the blanket to look at us. Chu Chi Minh seemed to be nailed to the spot. He stood still, his lips moved slightly but he couldn't say a word. In those bloodshot eyes, there were emotions that I didn't want to understand anymore. Is it guilt? Is it regret? Or was it the panic after discovering that he had wronged me? I do not know. Don't want to know either.

“Trinh Tranh…”

He finally found his voice again and took a step towards me.

“Don't be like that… can you hear me explain…”

“At that time… I was so confused at that time… I saw those things, my mind exploded…”

He stammered an explanation. Every word was like rubbing salt into my wound. I coldly interrupted.

“You thought I betrayed you?”

"So you use the word 'genocide' to insult me and insult our child?"

My words were like a strong punch to his face. Chu Chi Minh's body shook slightly, his face became even whiter.

“You… you were wrong…”

"Trinh Tranh... you really know what's wrong..."

“You can hit me, scold me, whatever…”

“Please don't ignore me…”

As he spoke, he wanted to reach out and hold my hand. I immediately retreated backwards as if bitten by a poisonous snake.

“Don't touch me!”

My stomach began to churn violently again. It's just a reaction to chemotherapy drugs. It's just that feeling of extreme disgust towards his very being. I leaned against the edge of the bed and vomited violently. The girl in the next bed saw this and immediately rang the bell to call the nurse. Soon, a nurse rushed in.

"What's wrong? Are you upset again?"

She looked at my painful appearance and then glanced at Chu Chi Minh standing next to me, immediately understanding what was going on.

“Sir.”

The nurse's voice was very serious.

“Patients need to rest and absolutely must not be emotionally agitated.”

"You're family, right? Please go out first."

But Chu Chi Minh did not hear it at all. His eyes were still locked on me.

“ Tranh Tranh, I'm sorry…”

“You can do whatever you want me to do… can I stay and take care of you?”

“I beg you…”

A man over forty years old stood in front of me, his voice choked to the point of trembling. If it was two days ago… Maybe I would have softened. But now, I just find it extremely ironic.

“Take care of me?”

I raised my head, wiped the corner of my mouth, then looked at him and laughed. That smile is probably more unsightly than crying.

“Chu Chi Minh, are you worthy?”

“When I needed you the most, where were you?”

“When you used the cruelest words to stab me, did you ever think how much it hurt me?”

“Now that you see this diagnosis, you come running and say you want to take care of me?”

“You're afraid I'm dead. Your conscience isn't at peace, right?”