Swapped Diagnosis My Dying Husband Kicked Me Out Penniless

The diagnosis from the oncology department gave me three months to live.

I blinked back tears, my hands trembling as I dialed my husband's number.

My mother-in-law's voice cut through first, shrill and acid: "Don't answer it. That jinx is calling to beg for money again."

Then my husband, dripping with impatience: "If you're sick, just die already. Don't drag me and my son down with you."

A voice message followed. Sixty seconds. "Since you're about to drop dead anyway, hurry up and sign the divorce papers. The house is mine. You walk away with nothing. Don't make me say it twice."