Chapter 82: Dina Has Cancer
Cora slit open the cream-colored “invitation,” sank into the sofa, and froze.
It wasn’t an invitation at all. It was a hospital CT.
She wasn’t a doctor; the grainy film meant nothing to her—until her gaze caught the name printed on the corner. A name she’d been trying not to think about because even the thought pulled needles through her chest.
Dina.
Why now?
Why again?
Why wouldn’t this ghost leave her alone?
Cora’s throat tightened. She tossed the CT aside.
Her phone rang before she could stand. Unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Cora, it’s me. Dina. Can we meet?” The voice was nothing like before—muted, scraped raw.
“I’m not home,” Cora said, ice-cold.
She had loved this friend like family once. That was before betrayal taught her that friendship could wreck you as easily as love.
“Please—don’t hang up,” Dina rushed. “I saw you come back. Did you look at the CT? I don’t have long, Cora. I’m dying. I only want to see you once more. We grew up together. You can pretend nothing happened, but I can’t.”
Cora’s fingers trembled.
What was she playing at now?
“I’m not lying,” Dina said, breath hitching. “It’s my brain. There’s a tumor. The surgeon said even if they cut it out, I might not wake up. My time’s short. I’ve done awful things and I don’t regret most of them, but I regret hurting you. Please—just see me.”
Brain tumor.
The words detonated in Cora’s head.
“Where are you?” Her own voice shook.
“There’s a café two blocks from your building. I’m there.”
The line clicked off.
Cora stood a long moment, drew a breath, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door.
“Mrs. Watson?” her assistant blurted, alarmed.
“I’m stepping out. Café nearby. Meeting Dina,” Cora said. “No one follows. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, come get me.”
They traded worried looks, but she was already gone.
The café was crowded. Cora spotted Dina instantly—the kind of face that turns heads on a Milan runway. When Dina’s eyes dropped to Cora’s abdomen, something complicated flickered there—envy, grief, something Cora didn’t care to name.
Cora sat. “What do you want?”
“Cora, how can you talk to me like that? You weren’t like this,” Dina said with a thin smile.
The old me? You killed her yourself.
“Drink?” Dina offered.
“No. I don’t take random things outside,” Cora said flatly. “Why am I here? We burned through the past the night you sold me out.”
Dina’s composure cracked; she folded over the table and sobbed. People stared. Cora’s face burned.
“Enough,” Cora cut in. “If you dragged me here to cry, cry on your own time. I’m not a man; your tears don’t work on me.”
Dina’s sobs stopped. She fumbled a folder from her bag and pushed it across. “You think I’m faking? I’m not.”
Cora flipped to the last page. Diagnosis: intracranial mass. Surgical removal recommended—urgent.
Top hospital. Real stamps. No mistake.
Dina might actually be dying.
Cora looked at the woman she used to know and felt the edge in her chest dull a fraction. She didn’t have it in her to watch a life wink out and feel nothing.
“Cora, I’m sorry,” Dina said, voice low. “After we fought, I had splitting headaches. I went in, and… Maybe this is what I deserve. I betrayed us.”
The sincerity—whether earned or not—took some iron out of Cora’s posture.
“Do you remember when we met?” Dina pressed on softly. “Your grandmother used to beat you for everything—the laundry, the rice. You were always bruised. I keep thinking about it and realizing how far I wandered from the only pure thing I had—us.”
Cora said nothing.
“I don’t expect forgiveness,” Dina whispered, pulling out another envelope. “This is my savings from Milan. If I don’t make it, consider it my gift to your baby.”
Cora’s eyes snapped up.
“It’s not much, but it’s what I have,” Dina said, taking Cora’s hand in both of hers. “If you hadn’t come, I was going to leave it with a lawyer. But I got to see you, and that’s enough.”
Cora let out a long breath. People about to die say kind things, she thought. Maybe that’s what this is.