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

The past five days had been a fog. After the fight with Emily, he couldn’t find peace. He tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. He went to the hospital, but they wouldn’t let him in. Nurse Sarah stood guard like a loyal watchdog, and the doctor hinted that Emily’s condition had worsened due to stress, making more upset dangerous. “You’re not listening!” Margaret snapped her fingers in front of his face. “I asked if I look nice!” “Yeah, Mom,” he replied mechanically. “Really nice.” “Perfect,” she smiled, satisfied. “Now stop moping. Today’s my day. We spent so much, so please, at least pretend to be happy.”

At the mention of money, James flinched. $30,000. Money scraped together from friends, colleagues, strangers online. Money that could’ve saved Emily’s life. And he’d blown it on one night of indulgence his mother would forget in a week. “You know,” Margaret continued, touching up her makeup, “I always dreamed of a birthday like this. So everyone sees what a devoted son I have, how much he values me. Barbara will be green with envy. Remember I told you? Her daughter didn’t even send flowers for her 60th, can you imagine?”

James nodded faintly, barely listening. One thought pounded in his head: what had he done? How could he betray the woman he swore to love and protect? For what? To let his mother show off to her friends? “Time to go,” Margaret checked her watch. “Guests are probably arriving. I don’t want to keep them waiting. You got the limo like I asked?” “Yeah, Mom,” James stood heavily. “It’s downstairs.” “Wonderful!” she took his arm. “Tonight’s going to be unforgettable, you’ll see.”

“Unforgettable,” echoed in James’s mind. Definitely unforgettable. Emily lay in her hospital room, staring at the ceiling. Dusk settled outside, but she didn’t turn on the light. The darkness matched her mood—bleak, hopeless. Her phone buzzed nonstop on the nightstand. Dozens of messages from friends, acquaintances, colleagues, all asking the same thing: was it true the money raised for her treatment went to her mother-in-law’s birthday? The news spread like wildfire after Jessica, her best friend, couldn’t hold back and posted an angry rant online.

“It’s unbelievable,” Jessica wrote. “A woman’s dying without surgery, and her husband spends the money we all raised on a party for his mom. How is this possible? Where’s the justice? Where’s the law?” The post got thousands of shares in hours. Comments were furious. People demanded the money back, threatened James with lawsuits, called Margaret vile names. Someone even started a petition to hold James accountable for fraud.

Emily stayed out of the storm. She had no strength or desire. She felt empty, betrayed, crushed. The surgery she’d pinned her hopes on now seemed like an impossible dream. Without it, the prognosis wasn’t great. A soft knock came at the door, and Sarah peeked in. “Emily?” she called gently. “Can I come in?” Emily nodded weakly, and Sarah entered, turning on the bedside lamp.

“You haven’t eaten a thing,” Sarah frowned at the untouched dinner tray. “You can’t do that. You need strength.” “What for?” Emily asked dully. “What’s the point?” Sarah sat on the bed and took her hand. “Don’t talk like that. There’s always a reason to fight. Always hope.” “Hope for what?” Emily gave a bitter laugh. “The surgery costs $30,000. I’ll never raise that again.”

“Not so fast,” Sarah smiled mysteriously. “Heard of Dr. Harrison? Chief surgeon at the National Cancer Center. Word is, he saw your friend’s post and got mad. He’s got a daughter about your age, and this kind of injustice hit him hard.” Emily propped herself up, suddenly curious. “And?” “Nothing definite yet,” Sarah shrugged. “But there’s talk he might take your case personally. Maybe even do the surgery for free, through some federal program.”

A spark of hope flickered in Emily’s chest, but she quickly smothered it. Too many disappointments lately to let herself believe again. “That’s just rumors,” she shook her head. “Things like that don’t happen.” “Oh, they do,” Sarah nodded firmly. “Miracles happen, especially when people care. Now eat,” she pushed the tray closer. “I’m not leaving till you eat at least half.” Emily gave a faint smile and picked up a fork. Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe all wasn’t lost. As long as she was alive, there was always hope.

The Riverside restaurant glowed with lights. At the entrance, guests were greeted by living statues—young men and women painted silver, holding flowers. Inside, the hall was decked with white roses and silver balloons. A huge banner read: “Happy Birthday, Margaret Thompson!” Margaret glided between tables, soaking up congratulations and compliments. Her face beamed, the diamonds on her neck sparkling under the chandeliers.

“Margaret, you’re a queen!” gushed one friend. “That dress, that jewelry! Your Jimmy outdid himself!” “Oh, my son knows how to spoil his mother!” Margaret tossed her head proudly. “Unlike some.” The jab was aimed at Barbara, her longtime rival, whose daughter had indeed forgotten her 60th. Barbara forced a smile, but her eyes betrayed envy.

James sat at the head table, mechanically smiling and shaking hands. His phone buzzed with notifications—dozens, hundreds of messages. Some cursed him, others questioned him, some threatened. Jessica’s post had done its job: everyone knew where the money for this lavish party came from. “How could you, James?” wrote a coworker. “I gave half my paycheck for your wife’s treatment. And you spent it on champagne and caviar.” “Return the money, or face court,” threatened one of Emily’s friends. “You betrayed her. Betrayed us all. No forgiveness,” came from Ethan, their old friend…