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"I have cancer."
Calina's pov
Taking a few steps away from me, he looked at me with a frown, muttering, "You are fucking with me."
Looking at him, I shook my head with a huff. The frown on his face deepened, looking at me shocked now.
Either he was a really good actor or he didn't know anything about my illness. Considering the way he reacted, I thought that it was rather the latter one.
And, I guess, he really didn't read the files he got on me, thinking it'd be more fun questioning me than reading a boring file.
"You really haven't read that file you got on me, did you?" I asked him, even if I already got my answer by the way he has taken the news.
"I didn't, but don't forget that I'm asking here the questions, piccola," he told me seriously.
"We're still not done with the question answer thing?" I asked exhausted, ready to walk past him and finally retire to my room. "Go read the file, I'm in no mood to play with you this question game anymore, or whatever this is ..."
Before I walked past him, he grabbed my arm, stopping me, making me look at him. "We are done when I'm saying that we're done. So, sit your ass back and answer my goddamn questions!" he demanded me.
"What do you still want to know?" I asked him, sitting down, having no energy to fight him off. "Why did you borrow the money from Cortez?" he asked me, making me snort. "To go on vacation," I muttered, and his jaw ticked.
"I've no time for your damn—"
"And I don't want to see your face but we don't get in life always what we want, right?" I asked him with a sweet smile.
"You're really play—"
"I borrowed money from this bastard because Zia had an atrial septal defect and needed surgery!" I cut him off.
"What the Hell is that?" he asked me, making get up from my seat as I got angry, angry at him as he was acting to blame for everything.
"My baby had a hole in her heart! Because of you!" I pushed him madly with both hands, resulting in him stumble back a few steps. "Every shit that's happening to me is your fault!"
"How the hell is it my fault? You," he hissed, pointing his finger at me, "are the one who had some nuts and went to a gangster to borrow money from him! You killed him, and I didn't tell you to do so! And it's clearly not my fault if your spoiled ass didn't save cash for bad times like these instead of spending every penny you got from work on some shit!"
"You cannot blame me for who I am!" I hissed, pointing a finger at him now, "You made me the way I am! You fucked me up!"
"No, love, you only found your true self," he told me with a dark smile, before shrugging, "and it's not my fault if the Ivanov in you is a fucked up."
"I'm not like them," I gulped, shaking my head in disagreement. "You're right," he claimed with a frown, "you're stupid compared to them, because you couldn't save some money with that job of yours."
"If making my daughter happy, spoiling her, giving her what she desired is stupidity, then, okay! Then, I'm stupid!" I agreed. "You're stupid for raising a spoiled brat," he huffed.
Shaking my head, I disagreed, "I raised a child who is grateful for everything she got. She never really has thrown a tantrum because she wanted something except for one thing. And I couldn't blame her for wanting it so badly. Do you what it was she wanted?"
"What?" he asked disinterested. "A dad. She asked me for a dad on her birthday. Then, she was so mad I couldn't give her one. She said that everyone in her daycare has a dad and why she doesn't have one. And I had to lie to my daughter because I didn't want to tell her that her father is a sadistic fuck. I didn't want to crash her perfect image about you she had in her mind," I said with a bitter smile.
"You really hate me, don't you?" he asked me with a raised brow. "With heart and soul," I nodded my head, making him huff.
"You know you might had loved me with heart and soul," he claimed, making me chuckle. "That will never happen," I told him seriously.
"Have you ever thought where we'd be if you didn't fake your death at our first wedding and run away?" he asked me cunningly.
"No, because I've never regretted the day I faked my death and ran away from you, to cause me think otherwise, like what'd happen if I didn't run away. Running away from was the best decision I ever made in my life as it gave me freedom. It helped my younger self not to get caught and live a miserable life with a pervert like you."
"I knew you were young Calina and I wouldn't touch you until you turned eighteen!" he argued back, making me shake my head.
"But you would trap me in your mansion! You would take my freedom! You would not let me be educated! You would forbid anything I desired!" I said back.
"Maybe I wouldn't, maybe you'd be happy if you married me and didn't run away. You never know where fate would lead you if you chose another path, chose me," he said as I listened to him quietly with a skeptical look on my face, I doubted would like him after getting to know what kind of a person he was.
"But as you can see, fate gave us a second chance," he claimed, he grabbing my chin, lifting it, so that I looked into his eyes. "I'm sure fate brought you back to me for a reason. Maybe we were meant for each other? Why else should we meet again and again? Huh?" Alright, if I ever doubted he was delusional, now I had no doubts.
"We are not meant to be together. I can't even put into words the disgust I still feel for you. For me, you are only my daughter's donor. And we'll never end together, fortunately, because I'm dying, Raphael," I told him seriously, "That's why I also brought her to you, as my time is limited, and I can't protect her when I'm no longer with her. And you owe me that much, you owe me to protect her."
"You won't die ..." was all I heard, as I felt an echo in my head, everything getting blurry, I really felt not well.
Then, my legs felt weak and I did everything in my power not to fall to the floor, but my legs gave up and I dropped to my knees. And here I was on my knees in front of the man who broke me.
My current position reminded me of something once he had said to me in the past. Trying not to lose consciousness, I looked up at him, but I couldn't make out his face as my vision was faded.
"You once said that if I should ask for mercy, I should do it the right way. And here I am on my knees and I beg you to protect her. I beg you to prevent that she ends like me. Please, please, Raphael," I sighed weakly.
He crouched in front of me so that we were at eye level before cocking his head and frowning, "You beg me? Now, who are you? And where did the wild woman go who was too proud to beg?"
"I would never beg for anything from you if it was for me, but I would do anything for my daughter," I said, looking into his eyes.
"I will surely protect my child. But you can keep care of her too because you won't die," he gritted out, getting up before pulling me up by my arm.
"You don't understand," I said tiredly, before I pulled my arm away and gestured to myself, "I'm dying. Look at me! I'm fucked up!"
"You—" he started and stopped in the middle of his sentence as I started to take off my shirt. I was fed up with arguing with him. I felt like I had to show him to believe me. His eyes looked at my body in silence as I have taken my shirt off.
"Look at me! I'm black and blue! Greenish! Because my body is sick! I look like I'm rotting! But it's not just my body that's rotting! My soul is rotten! I'm mental! I kill people and I do not know what I'm doing! I drag myself into a mess every time I try to do something right! And worst of all, I'm dragging my child with me in my problems! And—" I said as my voice got louder, but stopped talking as my throat felt dry and I started coughing.
"Calina?" I heard him call me while I was trying to deal with this cough. My eyes went teary as I coughed up blood. I looked at my bloody palm.
The blood was probably from my lungs, I started coughing a lot lately and this was the result of a persistent cough.
"What the hell," I heard him say while still looking at the blood on my hand. "How long have you been coughing blood?"
"For the first time now, but my chest hurts. But it's normal, it's normal, only a symptom of my illness," I said, looking into his eyes.
"Really? Normal, I got it, then, we certainly have nothing to worry!" he told me with a touch of sarcasm, before looking at me frustrated. "Have you started your treatment?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. "And why?" he asked, scratching his chin, his jaw clenched.
"I wanted Zia to be treated first. And I can't do anything right in this damn life anyway," I muttered, looking up to prevent the tears leave my eyes, "I bet I wouldn't even manage to fight this damn disease off my body. After all, every fight I did, I failed. I wouldn't be surprised if I failed this one too."
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked me as I sat on the floor. "My legs feel tired and so do I. Can I go to bed, please?" I asked before coughing again. I held my shirt, which was still in my hand, over my mouth as I didn't want to spill blood on the floor if I coughed up blood again.
"Get up," he demanded, pulling my body up. "What are you doing? Stop it, or you will get blood on you," I said as he picked me up as if I weigh nothing.
"I don't give a fuck," he said blankly as I felt lightheaded. I didn't know if I felt like the room was spinning because of my illness or just because I was tired.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked as I noticed he was leaving the office with me. "To bed before calling a damn doctor to check on you."
I smiled, my eyes half-open, suggesting him, "Just let me die." Then, I passed out.
And I hoped I wouldn't wake up again. Life became a scary thing for me because I was literally cursed to suffer.
And death? It excited me. Because death sounded like an eternal peaceful break from my cursed life.
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