Lea

"You're nothing but a replacement."

My husband said it with his eyes every time he looked through me to see her face. His mistress said it with that slow, satisfied smile. My own brother—the one I would have died for—proved it the night I saw him looking at her like she hung the moon.

I married a man who never once saw me.

I worked myself hollow for a family that used me like a tool and called it marriage. I gave up my career, my research, my dignity. I even gave up the right to be sick—because I have stage-four cancer and I haven't told a single soul.

I'm dying. And nobody knows.

But here's what they didn't count on: I'm not gone yet.

Before I go, I'm taking everything back.

Some women burn quietly until there's nothing left.

I'm done burning quietly.