The Quiet End of Us

We had been in love for years, and everyone believed that Henley was utterly devoted to me. Even I thought so—until the day I saw him in bed with a younger woman. I lost all will to live and chose the most peaceful way to end it all. When Henley found out I had donated my body, he completely lost his mind. Chapter 1 "Professor Noe, have you really made up your mind?" Hearing the slightly mournful voice on the other end of the line, Joanna Noe absentmindedly twisted the wedding ring on her finger and replied, "Yes, I've made my decision to donate my body." "But your condition... There might still be a chance—" the person on the other end began. "Pancreatic cancer is unbearable," Joanna interrupted calmly. "You're my student and a front-line doctor—you should know better than anyone else. Besides, I can't hold on any longer." She slid the ring off her finger, a flash of sorrow crossing her eyes. "While my organs are still in relatively good shape, I want to go peacefully. Donating my body to the medical school will be the last lesson I can give you all as a teacher." The ring traced a silver arc through the air, landing in the trash can. After a brief silence, her student spoke. "We'll schedule it as you wish—seven days from now. I'll draft the donation agreement and send it to you soon. Please... take care of yourself in the meantime." The sound of the front door unlocking broke the quiet. A man in a black trench coat stepped inside—Henley Zeal. He caught sight of Joanna lowering her phone and asked curiously, "Joanna, who were you talking to?" "My student," she answered. Like Henley, Joanna was one of the youngest professors at the medical school, mentoring countless students. Unlike him, she was approachable and patient, earning the admiration of her pupils. "By the way," Joanna continued, turning the question on him, "you mentioned earlier that there was an emergency at the hospital. Did you resolve it?" The question made Henley's heart skip a beat, his body stiffening slightly. After a moment, he replied, feigning nonchalance, "Mostly." Joanna could tell he was lying. They had been together for 24 years, from meeting and falling in love to getting married. By now, she knew every nuance of Henley—his tone, his gestures, even the smallest changes in his expression. Wanting to shake off the unease, Henley quickly changed the subject. "What do you feel like eating tonight? I'll cook for you." Joanna didn't know how to cook. As a child, her parents handled meals. After they passed, Henley took over, managing every detail of her life with care. People often said someone like Henley—a genius surgeon—was born to wield a scalpel, not waste his talents in the kitchen. Henley never complained. "Taking care of Joanna is my greatest blessing," he'd say. "If she ever stops needing me, that's when I won't survive." "I can't imagine a life without her." The aloof and distant Henley, who always kept others at arm's length, became soft and tender when it came to his wife. It amazed everyone who saw it. Their colleagues often said Joanna was lucky to marry Henley. Joanna thought so too—until the day she saw her husband, the same man who swore he couldn't live without her, pull a younger, beautiful woman into his arms and kiss her deeply. Only then did she realize that vows could change. People could, too. After that, she started receiving photos from an unknown number. The pictures were always of Henley and the same young woman—walking hand in hand under fireworks, sharing a kiss on a hot-air balloon, browsing couples' keepsakes together. Before Henley left the house that day, claiming he had urgent work at the hospital, Joanna received a text from the same number. [This afternoon, Henley will make me his completely.] When Henley got ready to leave earlier, Joanna called out to him, "Can you not go?" And what did Henley say? "Be good, Joanna. I really have to go this time." Chapter 2 "Joanna?" Henley's voice pulled Joanna back to the present. "I feel like having fish," she said. "Make fish stew tonight." Taking off his coat, Henley moved close to Joanna's side and nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck like a clingy, insecure little animal. "Joanna, I missed you so much. You're my everything—my only love in this world!" he proclaimed. "You'll always love me too, right? You'll never leave me, will you?" Henley asked questions like this often, as if he was never tired of hearing the answer. If Joanna didn't respond immediately, he'd sulk like a child, his eyes reddening as he accused her, "Joanna, am I annoying you? Do you not love me anymore? If you don't, just kill me now. Without you, I can't go on." In the past, Joanna would laugh, half exasperated, and swear, "I'll love you forever. I'll never leave you." This time, she stayed silent, tapping her fingers lightly on the armrest to change the subject. "I'm a little hungry." Henley's expression darkened at her lack of reassurance. He was about to speak when his gaze shifted to her bare left hand. "Where's your ring? Where's our wedding ring?" he demanded, grabbing her hand, his voice trembling with panic. That ring was special. Henley had made it himself, spending two months crafting it from scratch. He wasn't a jeweler—he knew nothing about designing or working with metals. His hands had been cut and bruised countless times during the process, and he'd almost lost a finger to a saw. Despite it all, he had been determined to make her a one-of-a-kind ring. Joanna had cherished it, never taking it off. Now, she calmly pulled her hand back. "The ring broke. I sent it for repairs." Before Henley could press further, his phone rang. A quick glance at the caller ID made Joanna's gaze dim. It was Addison Shorrock—one of Henley's students, the same woman who had been sending Joanna those photos. Henley tensed, ending the call without answering. The phone rang again—and again. Five or six times in a row, as if the caller wouldn’t stop until he picked up. "You should answer it," Joanna suggested. "It seems urgent. Maybe it's something important." Relieved by her words, Henley finally picked up. "I told you before—handle the research on your own. Stop running to me for every little thing," he said coldly. "If you keep this up, I won't approve your project!" The usual distant professionalism. Who would've guessed that a man who seemed incapable of betrayal was secretly having an affair with his student? Henley intentionally lowered the volume on his phone and stepped out onto the balcony. Joanna couldn't hear the conversation but simply stared at the faint indentation on her finger where her ring used to be. When Henley returned, there was a faint trace of joy in his expression, though he tried to hide it. "Joanna, it's getting late. I'll head to the market now and buy fish for you." "Okay," Joanna answered. Before leaving, he kissed her on the forehead. "Wait for me. I'll be back soon." As the door clicked shut behind Henley, Joanna picked up her phone. Addison had sent a new video. In it, two undressed bodies were entangled, moving together. The obscene sounds of water squelching and heavy breathing filled the background. The video ended with a message: [I just asked Henley if he wants me again. Guess what his answer will be?] Chapter 3 Henley never came back that night. Instead, Joanna received a message from him. Henley: [The prosecutors contacted me for an urgent autopsy. I won't be home tonight.] Henley was a renowned name in his field. Whenever a tricky case arose, people sought his expertise first. Assisting law enforcement was nothing out of the ordinary. Not long after, there was a knock at the door. It was a food delivery—a halibut fish stew. Joanna immediately recognized the restaurant. It was one of their favorites, a place where they often dined together. The delivery guy, a young man with a bright, cheerful smile, explained, "Your husband asked me to apologize on his behalf. Since he couldn't come home to cook for you, he specially ordered this fish stew for you. He said he'd make it up to you next time." He added with genuine admiration, "Wow, your husband treats you so well!" "Does he?" Joanna didn't take the food. Instead, she signed the receipt and handed it back. "I'm not going to eat it. If you don't mind, feel free to take it home for yourself." That night, Joanna didn't eat a single bite. She sat alone on the couch, staring into the darkness as the hours dragged on until dawn. When she finally stirred, she found herself sprawled on the floor near the window. The rain from the night before had left droplets on the sill, pooling into tiny streams. One of those rivulets had trickled into her open hand, cold and damp. It seemed she'd passed out from the pain again. This wasn't the first time. Late-stage pancreatic cancer brought relentless, piercing, soul-crushing pain. Sometimes, it became so unbearable that the thought of ending it all felt like the only reprieve. Judging by her position, last night must have been one of those moments. She must have crawled toward the window, considering the jump, but ultimately collapsed before she could act. With shaky limbs, Joanna propped herself up, realizing her sleeves were soaked and clinging to her skin in an uncomfortably clammy way. The sensation reminded her of being gnawed by unseen insects, but she couldn't be bothered to care. Her hands fumbled across the table until she found a bottle of pills. Without glancing at the label, she poured a handful into her palm and swallowed them dry, tossing the bottle into the trash. What the pills were didn't matter. How many she took didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore. Her phone rang. She answered, and a young, energetic voice came through. "Professor Noe, the consent forms for your body donation are ready. When you're available, could you come by to finalize the paperwork?" Joanna agreed. The worst of the night's agony had passed, and the medication dulled her senses enough for her to function. She took a taxi and arrived at the hospital shortly thereafter. The process of donating her body to science wasn't particularly complicated—except for one critical step. Joanna's student said hesitantly, "Professor Noe… you know that for a body donation, we need a family member's signature. There's only six days left... Professor Zeal..." "I'll handle him," Joanna replied, slipping the consent forms into her bag. As she stepped out of the office, she came face-to-face with Henley. Standing beside him, looking bashfully pleased, was Addison. The moment their eyes met, Addison shot Joanna a sly, triumphant glance. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Zeal," she greeted with a falsely sweet tone. Then, almost as if by accident, she adjusted her collar to reveal faint marks on her neck, clear evidence of intimacy. She mouthed silently, "Do you know how many times he had me last night?" Henley, in an instant, stepped away from Addison. He put noticeable distance between them and schooled his expression into the distant professionalism he typically displayed, allowing warmth only when he addressed Joanna. "Ah, Joanna, what are you doing here?" His tone was light, casual—but there was a flicker of panic beneath the surface. Joanna's gaze flicked briefly to his subconsciously rubbing left hand. "To find the two of you, of course," she answered. Chapter 4 Henley's face turned ashen as he stuttered, "Joanna... w-what are you talking about?" Joanna looked at him, then glanced at Addison. "Why? Shouldn't the two of you give me an explanation?" The hallway was bustling with people. Their colleagues were beginning to speculate as the three of them stood in the center of the corridor. Curious stares unnerved Henley, and he tried to tug at Joanna's arm, only to be flung away. "Joanna…" he called out. Joanna ignored him, moving to stand in front of Addison. Her cold, piercing stare made Addison instinctively shrink back, her earlier bravado faltering. Gripped by growing terror, Henley reached out to grab Joanna's hand again. Once more, she shook him off effortlessly. For a fleeting moment, his heart stopped. His mind raced with frantic thoughts of what Joanna might say—or worse, what she might do. Then, suddenly, Joanna chuckled. She turned and smiled faintly at him. "Why so nervous?" she asked, her tone light, almost teasing. "I was talking about the project, of course." She wiped the sweat from his brow gently. "What else did you think I was going to say?" Relief washed over Henley like a tidal wave. The research project was something he had recently arranged to boost Addison's profile, listing Joanna as a secondary advisor to increase its influence and scope. He had done all this because Addison's father had helped him in the past. The approval of the research proposal was supposed to be announced today. "Oh, has the proposal been approved?" Henley asked, relieved, while subtly signaling for Addison to leave. Having never been dismissed in public, Addison looked wronged, tears brimming in her eyes. Nonetheless, Henley felt no sympathy. As she left, her resentment was palpable, though she could only discreetly glare at Joanna before walking away. Joanna was taken into a lab after that. It was quiet, as the lab was nearly empty with lunchtime approaching. She produced a stack of documents from her bag, saying, "They didn't manage to contact you, so they called me. I have all the documents printed and ready for your signature." Henley had started the project specifically for Addison. He'd only added Joanna's name to the advisor list without intending for her to be directly involved, just to facilitate the approval. He hadn't expected the documents to be sent to her directly. A pang of guilt settled in as he looked at the documents, gripping his pen awkwardly. Joanna wasn't in a hurry. She settled into a nearby chair and watched Henley go through the documents, signing each one carefully—a habit of his, always serious and responsible no matter what he was doing. The room was silent except for the sound of rustling pages and a soft breeze from the open window. "I heard Zachary's wife is divorcing him," Joanna said casually, breaking the silence. Henley froze mid-turn of a page. "W-What?" "You didn't know? Apparently, he cheated—with one of his students, no less," Joanna replied, leaning back in her chair as if she were just chatting. Henley's hand trembled around the pen, his face going pale. "Why are you suddenly interested in gossip?" Joanna's tone remained light, but her gaze was unrelenting. "The rumor's everywhere. And I've had some time on my hands lately. I guess I've just been paying attention." She let her words hang in the air before adding, "It's shocking, isn't it? Knowing someone for years, only to realize they're capable of something like that." She glanced at Henley, then remarked, "Why did you stop signing?" As if triggered, Henley quickly resumed signing the documents, but all he could think about were Joanna's words. His heart pounded violently, as though it might burst. Why was Joanna bringing this up? Did she know something? What should he do if she did? Then again, it seemed impossible. Time passed in oppressive silence. Finally, Joanna chuckled. "I'm just glad I married you. My Henley would never betray me, right?" Henley finished the last signature almost by force. As he put the pen down, relief washed over him—but guilt lingered. He forced himself to meet her eyes and nodded firmly. "Of course not. I would never betray you," he said. "If I ever did... let me die a miserable death!" Chapter 5 Henley kissed Joanna's forehead gently before sending her off at the medical school gate. "Be careful on your way home," he reminded her gently. A few passing students cast envious glances their way. "You're the university's famous heartthrob professor." Joanna shyly pushed him back, discreetly ending the kiss. "This kind of public display isn't ideal." "I don't care," Henley said firmly. "I just want the whole world to know you're the one I love most." Though Joanna's demeanor remained as composed as ever, Henley couldn't shake the gnawing unease that crept into his heart. It was this persistent feeling that made him express his affection so frequently, as though doing so could ease the turbulence in his heart. At his insistence, Joanna agreed to have lunch with him. Late-stage pancreatic cancer had nearly stolen her appetite, but she forced herself to eat so Henley wouldn't suspect anything was wrong. During lunch, he brought up her missing wedding ring again. In less than a day, the telltale mark on Joanna's ring finger had vanished, as though the ring had never existed. The absence only deepened Henley's growing anxiety. "I made that ring with my own hands," he said quietly. "If it's broken, let me fix it." "That's not necessary," Joanna replied, dabbing her lips with a napkin. Her tone remained calm, almost indifferent. "You're already swamped, juggling responsibilities at the university and surgeries at the hospital. Don't add more to your plate." She paused, then added casually, "Besides, isn't the research project's final report due next week? Without your help, Addison won't be able to finish it on her own." Her gaze flickered toward Henley, watching his reaction closely. As she expected, the mention of Addison made his composed expression falter, betraying a flicker of agitation. Seizing the moment, Joanna added lightly, "You shouldn't be so hard on your students all the time. As a mentor, it's only right to help when they're struggling." Henley's gaze turned evasive. He stopped pressing the issue and merely reminded her, "Just remember to retrieve the ring once it's repaired." After finally seeing Henley off, Joanna went to a shopping mall alone. She spent the afternoon in the electronics section before settling on a video recorder and a memory card. As she got into the car, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. It was Addison. She hesitated for a moment before answering. There was no immediate response on the other end—just muffled, indistinguishable sounds. Assuming it was a bad connection, Joanna turned up the volume, accidentally routing the call through her car's Bluetooth system. Suddenly, the strange sounds amplified, filling the car with unmistakable noises—frantic gasps, the rhythmic thud of bodies colliding, and a woman's moans of ecstasy. Then Addison's voice followed, sultry and demanding."Henley, honey... tell me I'm the one you love the most! If you don't, I won't let you finish!" Henley's strained, hoarse voice followed, as though he were struggling to suppress his desire. "No! The one I love most is Joanna! I can never lose her!" Addison's tone turned petulant, tinged with tears. "Then why are you with me? If you love her so much, go be with her! Stop coming to me!" There was a shuffling sound before Henley let out a deep, weary sigh. "Don't be like this, babe. You know I care about you too. It's just... every time I look at Joanna, I can't help thinking about the past. It's suffocating. Only with you can I feel truly relaxed and free." He then said, his voice almost breaking, "I love Joanna, but I'll never be able to live without you." Chapter 6 Joanna rolled down the car window, gulping fresh air to combat the suffocating weight on her heart. So, this was it. She finally understood. To Henley, the one who had once saved him had now become the very embodiment of his trauma. People were contradictory and complicated. Memories of their darkest days together flooded back—the blood-stained walls, the violence, the young man clinging to her as if she were his last lifeline. His desperate whisper echoed in her mind. "Joanna, I have nothing left. You're all I have. If you ever leave me, take me with you. Don't let me suffer here alone." No. Someone as selfish and greedy as Henley deserved to be left behind. Let him drown in his past, swallowed by guilt until he fell into the deepest pits of hell. - Back home, Joanna locked herself in her bedroom. She set up the new video recorder and filmed a short message. Then, she saved it to the memory card and scheduled its delivery. "Please send this card back here exactly one year from today," she instructed the courier. The courier accepted the card and asked curiously, "Is it a surprise for your husband? An anniversary gift?" Only then did Joanna find the courier familiar. "Have you forgotten? Your husband always sends you flowers for your anniversary. I'm usually the one delivering them," he reminded her. "And I remember each bouquet came with a long, heartfelt letter. He even handpicked the flowers himself. He really loves you." The courier's genuine admiration stung like a cruel joke. Joanna smiled, offering no response. "Today's your anniversary, isn't it? I thought he might've sent you flowers again. But I guess this time, it's your turn to surprise him," the courier added. Only then did Joanna realize—it was their wedding anniversary. In past years, she would've received flowers and gifts. This year, she received betrayal, wrapped in raw, unforgiving truth. After the courier left cheerfully with the memory card, Joanna collapsed onto the sofa. The searing pain from her illness clawed at her body. In desperation, she reached for her medication, but a jagged nail from the drawer scratched her arm. Ignoring the bleeding wound, she shakily emptied the bottle into her palm, swallowing pill after pill until it was empty. Finally, the pain subsided just enough to let her breathe. Before she could have a moment to herself, knocks sounded at the door. At first, she thought the courier had forgotten something. Dragging her weak body, she moved slowly toward the door. The knocking grew louder and more urgent, almost frantic. Joanna's instincts told her something was wrong. She quickened her pace. When she opened the door, a blinding flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by the deafening roar of thunder. Henley fell into her arms, trembling like a bird with broken wings. His clothes were damp, but not from rain—his body was drenched in cold sweat. He clung to her like a drowning man, his eyes wild and desperate. "Joanna... Joanna..." he repeated. Of course. Even now, Henley couldn't escape his past. Thunderstorms always pushed him into the depths of terror, robbing him of reason. Lost in his fear, he would hurt himself, spiraling into madness. Only Joanna's presence could pull him back from the abyss. Clinging to her as though she were his lifeline, he let out a guttural cry, his voice raw with desperation. "Joanna, don't leave me. Never... Never leave me!" Chapter 7 The early morning sunlight bathed the streets, washing away the remnants of the torrential rain and thunderstorm from the night before. It was as if none of it had ever happened. When Henley woke up, all he found in his arms was one of Joanna's scarves. "Joanna? Joanna, where are you?" he called. Panic-stricken, he stumbled out of the bedroom, shouting her name as he searched every corner of the house. But there was no sign of her. A suffocating fear gripped him. Although the storm had passed, a lingering dread consumed him. He called Joanna's phone repeatedly. Once, twice, three times... Henley called over a hundred times, but not a single call was answered. He wanted to go out and look for her, but the fear left over from the night before paralyzed him. Stepping outside felt like an insurmountable task. This had never happened before. Joanna always stayed by his side during his episodes. She would hold him gently, her soft fingertips brushing against his forehead as she whispered soothingly, "Don't be afraid, Henley. I'll always be here. I won't leave." But this time, Joanna was gone. She wasn't answering her phone. Desperate, Henley retreated into her closet and clutched her clothes, trying to calm himself with the faint scent she had left behind. Joanna would come back. She had to come back. There was no way she could leave him. Still, he kept calling her. Tears blurred his vision, dripping onto his phone screen and causing it to switch erratically between apps. His trembling hands struggled to wipe the screen, but the phone slipped from his grip. The phone hit the floor with a clatter, shattering into pieces. The screen went dark. "No! Joanna... Joanna!" Henley's anguished cries echoed through the empty house. The pain was unbearable. In his despair, he picked up a sharp shard of glass from the shattered phone and pressed it against his wrist. Just as the shard was about to pierce his skin, a familiar voice came from the doorway. "Henley?" Joanna stood leaning against the doorframe, her expression calm and detached. The moment Henley saw her, he let go of the shard and threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Inhaling her familiar scent, he felt as though his feet had touched solid ground for the first time in hours. He didn't question where she had gone or why she hadn't answered his calls. He had only one thought—he couldn't lose Joanna. Never. - Over the next few days, Henley clung to Joanna like a shadow, refusing to leave her side. Normally, he would have been able to return to his routine by now, but her sudden disappearance had shaken him to the core, leaving him even more fragile. Even at night, he wouldn't let go of her hand as they slept. The moment he loosened his grip, he would wake up in a panic, clutching her hand again before he could fall back asleep. Joanna didn't protest, but she no longer comforted him as she once did. She didn't soothe him with her voice or her touch. Instead, she watched him quietly, her gaze tinged with a distant sense of irony. Henley was too consumed by his own fragility to notice. - Three days later, Henley finally received a call from the hospital. They told him several surgeries had been scheduled during his absence, and they needed him to return immediately. Before leaving, Henley reluctantly kissed Joanna on the forehead. "Joanna, wait for me to come home, okay? Tonight, I'll make you your favorite fish stew." Good job for remembering what she mentioned seven days ago. "Alright," Joanna replied. "I'll be here waiting for you tonight." Chapter 8 As soon as Henley left, Joanna emptied her closet of clothes and burned everything in the fireplace. She tossed anything in the house that bore her traces into the fire. The flames roared, as though devouring every piece of beauty that had hidden a bitter truth. Earlier that morning, Henley had snuck out to the balcony to make a phone call. Before that, his phone had been flooded with over a hundred missed calls and messages from Addison. Addison: [Henley, why aren't you answering my calls?] Addison: [Are you tired of me? How could you treat me like this?] Addison: [If you don't call me back, we're done!] And so, Henley caved. The moment the call connected, his voice softened to a "Babe, I'll come see you today, okay?" Joanna stood just a few steps away from the balcony, hearing every word with unsettling calm. Her heart felt nothing but numbness. After clearing out the house, Joanna took one last look around. She could still vividly remember the day they first walked through the front door. At the time, they had just graduated, with little money to their name. The real estate agent had shown them the house—its floor-to-ceiling windows and spacious balcony had instantly captivated her. Despite that, it had been far beyond their budget. Joanna had been about to drag Henley away, but he had held her hand firmly, saying, "We'll take it." Joanna had been stunned, ready to protest, when Henley said, "My wife likes it. As long as she's happy, nothing else matters." He had noticed the joy in her eyes the moment she stepped into the house. She had understood Henley deeply back then, and he had understood her just as well. He had worked tirelessly to give her the life she wanted, selling his academic achievements and taking on grueling work schedules. He had always said, "As long as you're happy, Joanna, I'd give you everything. Even my life." When had that love changed? When had he become the man who didn't even notice her illness, who failed to see the pills she swallowed daily for her pancreatic cancer? The reasons no longer mattered. Only the outcome did. Joanna closed the door behind her and left. The streets were covered in fallen leaves. The chill of late autumn filled the air, and the few pedestrians hurried along, eager to reach the warmth of home and family. Joanna walked slowly toward the hospital. After today, her life would end peacefully. She couldn't think of anyone left to miss. At a crosswalk, the light turned red. She stood still in the cold wind, counting down the seconds as if counting the final moments of her life. When the light turned green, she stepped off the curb. Suddenly, there was a flash of light and the deafening sound of an impact. Joanna was struck and thrown several meters beyond the crosswalk. Her vision blurred with crimson, and her mangled legs lay at unnatural angles. Chaos erupted around her—screams from bystanders, honking cars, the sound of blood pouring from her body. She didn't know how much time passed before she was lifted into the emergency ward. Doctors and nurses shouted urgently. "Severe facial trauma—no way to identify her!" "Her condition is critical! Call Dr. Zeal now!" "He says he can't come—Addison had a terrible scare, and he's staying with her!" "No time to wait. Get her into surgery now!" Joanna could feel her life slipping away, faster and faster. The sounds of medical equipment and frantic voices blended into a fading echo. "She's crashing! Blood pressure's plummeting!" "Her heart rate's unstable!" "Where's Dr. Zeal?" "It's too late!" The piercing flatline of the heart monitor filled the room as Joanna exhaled one final breath.