Your cancer can wait — Mom’s got a big birthday bash to celebrate…

She hugged him tightly, pulling him close like when he was a boy. “My good boy,” she whispered. “I knew you wouldn’t abandon me.” But in James’s mind, frantic thoughts swirled: where to get money for a lavish party? Borrow? From whom? All their friends had already contributed to Emily’s treatment. Sell something? But what? The car was needed to drive Emily to the hospital. The apartment was their only home. Then a thought hit him—one that horrified him. The bank account with nearly $30,000, raised for Emily’s surgery. “No, that’s impossible,” he snapped at himself. That’s for saving her life. I can’t.

“What’s on your mind, honey?” Margaret was already at the stove, as if the heart scare hadn’t happened. “The pies are getting cold, come eat. Tell me which restaurant we’ll pick.” James sat at the table, mechanically chewing a pie that tasted bland despite the familiar recipe. And that terrible thought kept pulsing in his mind, growing less impossible with every minute in that apartment, every glance from his mother.

Three days later, Emily felt better: the last chemo cycle was nearly done, and the surgery loomed, promising to end her illness for good. Her mood was upbeat despite physical weakness. She was scrolling through social media when the door opened, and James walked in. Something in his expression made her tense: he didn’t just look tired—he looked lost, like someone who’d made a choice they already regretted.

“Hey,” he kissed her cheek and sat beside her. “How’re you?” “Better,” she smiled. “The doctor said my labs are improving. Nine days till surgery.” James nodded, but distantly, as if his mind was elsewhere. “That’s… good,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, we need to talk.” Emily’s heart skipped a beat. That phrase never meant anything good.

“About what?” she asked, trying to stay calm. James sighed, avoiding her eyes. “You know Mom’s 60th birthday is coming up. Big milestone.” “Yeah, I remember,” Emily nodded. “We talked about doing a family dinner when I’m discharged.” “The thing is,” James paused, “Mom’s really upset. She wanted a real celebration, with guests, at a restaurant. Says 60 only happens once.”

Emily frowned. “A birthday’s important, sure. But now’s not the time for a big party, you know that. Every penny’s going to the surgery.” James stayed quiet, fidgeting with the blanket’s edge. “I promised her,” he finally said. “Promised her a party.” “What do you mean, promised?” Emily propped herself up on her elbows. “James, we don’t have extra money. Everything we’ve raised is for the surgery.”

“I know,” he stood and paced the room. “You think I don’t get it? But you didn’t see her face, Emily. She was crying, had a heart attack right in front of me. I thought she was going to die, right there in the kitchen.” Emily felt a pang of jealousy and immediately felt ashamed. Of course he’s worried about his mom. That’s normal. But something in his tone, his demeanor, made her uneasy. “We can do a small party,” she suggested. “No restaurant, no extravagance. Just family, a cake, a gift.”

“You don’t get it,” James shook his head. “It’s a big deal to her. Showing everyone she’s doing well, that her son hasn’t forgotten her. She’s already sent out invitations, can you believe it?” “Without your okay?” Emily felt a lump in her throat. “James, what’s going on? You’re not telling me something.” He stopped by the window, his back to her, silent for a moment. Then he turned slowly, and in his eyes, Emily saw something that chilled her to the core: the resolve of someone about to do something terrible.

“I took the money from the account,” he said quietly. “The $30,000. For Mom’s birthday.” The world around Emily froze. Her ears rang, dark spots danced before her eyes. She thought she’d misheard. “What? What did you say?” she whispered, lips dry. “I paid for the Riverside restaurant, a banquet for 100 people,” James spoke fast, as if afraid he wouldn’t finish. “Booked performers, fireworks. Bought Mom a diamond necklace she’s always wanted. She’s so happy, you should see her.”

“You took the money raised for my surgery,” Emily said, not as a question but a statement, grappling with the horror of it. “Money people gave to save my life. You spent it on your mom’s birthday.” “I’ll pay it back,” James’s face twisted. “I’ll get a loan, work overtime. The surgery can wait a couple months, the doctor said it’s not urgent.”

Emily felt something snap inside her. Like the last thread tying her to this man broke with a deafening crack. “Get out,” she said quietly. “Just get out.” “Emily, please,” he stepped toward her. “You have to understand. Mom—” “I said get out!” she nearly screamed, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t want to see you. Ever.”

James froze, arms falling limply. “You don’t know what I’m going through,” he muttered. “I’m caught between you and Mom. I couldn’t do anything else.” “No,” Emily shook her head. “You could’ve. You should’ve protected me, your wife. But you chose. And it wasn’t me.”

The door opened, and Nurse Sarah stepped in. She took one look at Emily’s tears and James’s pale face and knew. “What’s going on here?” she asked sternly. “You’re upsetting the patient. She can’t handle stress.” “He’s leaving,” Emily said dully, turning to the wall. “For good.” James opened his mouth to speak, but under Sarah’s fierce glare, he shook his head and headed for the door. He paused. “I love you,” he said. “And I’ll fix this, I swear.” Emily didn’t reply. She couldn’t believe the person she’d trusted with her life had betrayed her so cruelly. In that moment, she knew her fight was just beginning. Not just against cancer, but against the betrayal of the person closest to her.

When the door closed behind James, Emily let herself sob fully. Margaret twirled in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection. The navy-blue evening gown, embroidered with silver threads and costing $2,000, hugged her still-slim figure perfectly. The diamond necklace—a gift from her son, her dream for years—sparkled on her neck. “Well, Jimmy, how do I look?” she turned to her son, who sat in an armchair, his gaze vacant. “Like a queen, right?” James nodded absently, not looking up…