My Kidney, His Love

The crystal chandelier in the Luke family's Villa illuminated the whole night but could not warm the chilling emptiness in the living room. I sat on the sofa, fingers gripping a neatly folded document, my knuckles white with tension. This marriage was filled with scheming from the very start. Yale Luke never married me out of love; it was only because Shirley White needed a kidney donor. And my blood type and tissue matched hers perfectly. For an entire year, I lived like a ghost within this villa. The kitchen never saw more than one set of tableware in use at once, the bedroom closet was always only half-filled, and even the servants regarded me with a wary, guarded distance. Until last month, when Shirley White returned from abroad. All pretenses were shattered. Yale Luke no longer shied away; he appeared with Shirley White at every public occasion. On the financial pages of magazines, he would wrap his arm around Shirley White's waist, his smile full of tenderness; In the evening entertainment headlines, the two dined together at a restaurant, their closeness painfully glaring. I crumpled those newspapers and tossed them into the trash. The suffocating weight in my chest grew heavier; I knew I couldn't continue like this. Late at night, the sound of a key turning echoed from the foyer. Yale Luke returned, carrying a faint trace of perfume—the very brand Shirley White often wore. I stepped forward and placed the divorce agreement before him. The edges of the paper had been crumpled slightly in my grasp. He glanced down at the cover, a slight arch in his brow, his voice dripping with mockery: "Divorce agreement? Quincy Scott, what game are you playing this time?" "I'm not playing any games." I drew a deep breath, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Yale Luke, let's get a divorce." He reached out and swept the agreement off the table. Sheets of paper scattered across the cold floor, like the fragments of my shattered heart. "Divorce?" He stepped forward, closing in on me, his shadow engulfing me completely. "When you painstakingly married into the Luke family, why didn't you ever think of divorce?" "At first..." I wanted to explain that I agreed to this arrangement because my family was gravely ill and I was desperate, but the words caught in my throat and I swallowed them back. In his eyes, any explanation I offered was no more than an excuse. "Don't bring up the past with me." He cut me off, his fingers gripping my chin so hard that tears sprung to my eyes. "Shirley's surgery hasn't been done yet. Until she recovers, you're not going anywhere." "You can't do this!" I struggled, trying to push him away. "This is illegal detention!" "Illegal detention?" He sneered coldly, releasing me and stepping back a half-step, looking down at me with disdain. "You can call the police. But don't forget, your brother is still receiving treatment at the hospital I fund, and the retirement home for your parents—its lease was renewed with my help." His words were like a sharp knife, piercing straight into my most vulnerable place. My whole body went rigid, all strength to resist instantly drained away. Yes, how could I have forgotten. He had long held a grip over me, leaving me not even the right to say 'no.' He looked at my desolate, lost expression, his eyes devoid of pity, only coldness: "Behave yourself. Don't think about divorce anymore; it's better for both of us." After saying that, he turned and walked into the bedroom, leaving me alone in the empty living room, facing the divorce papers scattered across the floor, sleepless through the night.