I Sent Him 89 Voice Messages He Sent 89 Transfers Chapter 01

I Sent Him 89 Voice Messages He Sent 89 Transfers Chapter 01

On our wedding night, I asked my Commander husband for thirty thousand dollars to save my father’s life. From that moment on, he decided I was nothing but a gold digger.

For the next four years, every message I sent was met only with a transfer from his military salary.

When I told him I’d suffered a miscarriage, he merely sent a cold condolence payment.

I begged him to attend my father’s memorial service at the military compound, yet all I received was money for funeral expenses.

Six months ago, I was diagnosed with hereditary bone cancer. I would end up just like him — confined to a hospital bed, facing long-term illness and unbearable chronic pain until the end.

I broke down completely. Crying, I sent him eighty-nine long voice messages.

In return, I received eighty separate transfers, each for the exact same sum — not a single written word attached.Not a single word of reply.

Later, the doctor brought over the surgical consent form and asked if I would agree to an amputation to prolong my life.

I hesitated. Then I sent Cole Hawthorne a message.

“Amputation would give me thirteen more months. Do you want me to do it?”

Just one minute before I was wheeled into the operating room, my phone finally vibrated.

A five-thousand-dollar transfer popped up on my screen, with the note reading: “Surgical fee.”

At that very moment, he was staying at the officers’ quarters, assembling military model kits with Ivy Thornton, his childhood sweetheart.

I saw photos of his concentrated profile in her social media post, surrounded by countless well-wishes from their friends.

I smiled bitterly. I let out a bitter laugh and tugged the IV line gently away from my hand.

Cole Hawthorne had once told me, in a voice like ice, “Ending my engagement to Ivy just to be with you is the greatest regret I have ever known.”

So now, I wish you get everything you long for, and may you never live to regret it.

…

So now, I wish you get everything you long for, and may you never live to regret it.

A nurse rushed over and clamped down on my hand. “What are you doing? What are you doing? This is extremely dangerous.”

I just smiled calmly. My voice came out light as a feather. “Please cancel my surgery.”

The head doctor came quickly. He looked at my test results and was silent for a long time.

He didn’t try to persuade me anymore. He only wrote me a prescription for powerful pain medication and sent me home.

As I packed my things, I heard a nurse whispering in the hallway. “Dr. Fletcher, this is someone’s life we’re talking about!”

Another voice, full of regret and helplessness. “The cancer has spread everywhere. She has five days at most.”

So little time left. Freedom would come for me sooner than I thought.

The doctor watched my back and sighed softly.

“You know? Her father died in that same bed. He suffered from the same illness, and possessed the same unyielding will. Not once did he cry out in pain until his last moment.”

My steps faltered. My nails dug into my palms.

“She’s been coming for chemo for almost a year. Always alone.”

“Other patients have family to feed them, clean them. She’d writhe in pain, biting a towel, and still call the nurse herself. Her husband never once came.”

“There was even a night when the agony overwhelmed her and she called him, only to have another woman pick up the phone.”

The doctor’s voice grew quieter. “Maybe that’s just fate.”

I gripped my prescription. Nails almost drew blood.

Yeah. Maybe that’s fate.

Like when my dad found out he had bone cancer. He held my hand, fighting through the pain, and smiled at me. “Don’t be scared, Maya. Daddy can handle it.”

But in the end, he closed his eyes forever in my arms.

Like how I asked Cole for money on our wedding night to save my dad.

I still remember the shock in his eyes. The deep, cutting disappointment.