Chapter 3My Wife Sent Me to Cremation for Her First Love

“The patient has developed cerebral edema. The swelling is compressing his nerves and affecting his breathing—we need to operate immediately!”

“Get Dr. Caldwell in here for the neurosurgery. I’ll handle her external surgical cases,” said Dr. Logan Mitchell, urgency clear in his voice. A nurse sprinted out of the room to fetch Serena.

Minutes later, hurried footsteps returned.

“Dr. Mitchell, Dr. Caldwell said her husband is beyond saving. She insists on staying with her current patient because, in her words, she has to prioritize the living. She also said…” the nurse trailed off, hesitating.

“Spit it out!”

“She said if you insist on operating on her husband, you’re free to do so. She’s already signed the consent to discontinue care. And… she won’t hold it against you if your skills aren’t up to par.”

Even though I already knew, deep down, that Serena valued Nathan Cross more than me, hearing her indifference from someone else stung.

Serena was a top neurosurgeon. If she chose to perform my operation herself, my chances of survival—and avoiding severe complications—would significantly improve.

But she wouldn’t.

Maybe that’s the difference between love and indifference.

All I could do now was hope I would survive this…

“Prep the OR. I’ll do the surgery myself,” Dr. Mitchell declared firmly.

I was wheeled into the operating room shortly after.

As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I heard the faint sound of a scalpel slicing through my scalp, followed by the rhythmic beeping of monitors and the frantic voices of the surgical team.

The longer the operation went on, the colder I felt, like a fragile paper boat struggling against the stormy waves of a vast ocean. My body grew heavier with each passing moment.

“Contact the blood bank! We need more units—stat!”

“Cardiac arrest! Get the crash cart over here!”

Amid the chaos, a voice cut through the noise, steady and resolute.

“Stay with us. Don’t give up…”

Those words were like an anchor, tethering my fading consciousness.

I can’t die.

I won’t die.

I have to live!

How long I fought, I couldn’t say. Eventually, my awareness dissolved into darkness.

As I succumbed to the void, a single thought crossed my mind:

Would I ever open my eyes to the world again?

I hoped so.

When I finally woke up, three days had passed.

Like before, I couldn’t move or open my eyes, but I could hear the faint beeping of monitors and the hum of medical equipment.

I was alive.

The realization sent a surge of emotion through me. I had made it through another trial.

The sound of a cart being wheeled into the room interrupted my thoughts.

Two nurses came in, performing their routine checks and adjusting my IV. One of them tugged the blanket over me and sighed.

“Dr. Caldwell’s husband still hasn’t woken up. If she hadn’t misjudged him, he wouldn’t be in this condition. Poor guy…”

“He’s lucky to be alive at all,” the other nurse replied. “You know who really got the short end of the stick? Dr. Mitchell. He saved this man and still got suspended because of her complaint. Who knows what else might happen to him?”

“I heard reporters are coming in to cover the car pileup and the boating accident. Dr. Mitchell’s suspension means all the attention will go to Dr. Caldwell—”

“Shh! Someone’s here.”

The nurses fell silent as the door swung open.

“Dr. Caldwell!”

“I’m just here to check on my husband. Is there anything you need my help with?” Serena’s voice was cool and composed.

“N-no, not at all. We’ll check on the other patients,” one nurse stammered before both scurried out.

Serena approached my bed.

I had no idea what she planned to do, but her presence filled me with dread.

Leaning over, she pried open one of my eyelids, then chuckled softly. I felt a wave of unease as she stepped back and pulled out her phone.

“Hi, sweetheart. Ethan had the surgery, but his luck ran out—he’s a vegetable now.”

Her voice was light, almost amused.

“No, don’t worry. I don’t have to get my hands dirty. We’ll still get all of his money. Once everything’s settled, we can finally take that trip abroad…”

Her sweet, almost tender tone didn’t match the venomous words she spoke.

Serena whispered into the phone as she left the room, her heels clicking against the tile floor.

I couldn’t believe what I had just heard.

She called someone else “sweetheart.”

She was plotting my death. She wanted my money?!

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