Chapter 3Waiting for a Spring of My Own

Before anyone could react, my eyes widened, and I instinctively lunged toward Yvonne.

But in the next instant, a dark figure moved faster than I did.

Yannick lunged forward almost instinctively, grabbing Yvonne and roughly yanking her behind him to shield her.

He completely forgot that I was standing right in front of him.

Sharp shards of crystal crashed into me, and a searing pain exploded through my body.

My vision went black, and I lost consciousness.

When I opened my eyes again, the sharp smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils. I lay on a cold hospital bed, my head throbbing with pain, unable to move a muscle.

The doctor had just finished examining my injuries. He stepped out of the room and announced, "The patient has lost a lot of blood and needs an urgent transfusion. Who here has type O blood?"

The moment he finished speaking, two voices sounded from outside the door at the same time.

Yvonne hurried forward, her voice urgent. "Take mine! I'm her older sister, and we have the same blood type!"

Right behind her, Yannick said in a low voice, "Take mine. I'm her husband, and I have type O blood."

Yvonne immediately turned to glare at him, her voice laced with urgency and resentment. "You know perfectly well that you have severe anemia! Every time you donate blood, you get dizzy and weak. Why are you trying to play the hero?"

Yannick's expression remained cold, his tone stubborn. "I'm fine."

"Why do you always have to be so stubborn?" Yvonne lowered her voice, unable to hide her resentment. "Back then, when you broke up with me for the sake of my ambitions and future, you never asked me either..."

Yannick froze, his dark eyes flickering. "That was years ago. Are you really going to keep bringing it up?"

They stood arguing outside my hospital room, every word carrying clearly to my ears.

I lay motionless in bed, staring blankly as my heart sank little by little, until it turned completely cold.

No wonder Yvonne had always tried, both openly and subtly, to stop me from choosing a husband back then.

Now everything finally made sense.

My husband, Yannick, had broken up with Yvonne because he didn't want to hold her back.

Marrying me had simply given him a legitimate reason to support her.

Even the doctor had had enough. While the two of them were busy arguing, the blood bank had already delivered the blood.

"Will you two stop arguing? The transfusion is finished. The family can go in and see her now."

The moment Yvonne saw me, her eyes instantly reddened. She gently blew on my wounds. "Nico, does it still hurt? You silly girl. Did I need you to shield me? Nick was right there!"

Yannick looked at me, his tone unusually indulgent. "Didn't you say you wanted to go to Havenport to see the fireworks? Once you've recovered, I'll take you there. How does that sound?"

Yvonne immediately cut in, her voice edged with displeasure. "Absolutely not. The company's just getting off the ground, and everyone's working their tails off. What will the employees think if the boss takes time off to watch fireworks at a time like this?"

Yannick furrowed his brows slightly. "That's between my wife and me. I'll explain things to the employees myself."

Yvonne was at a loss for words. Reluctantly, she turned to me and softened her tone. "Nico, how about I take you to a fashion show and do some shopping?"

I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I couldn't muster the slightest interest. "You two decide."

Seeing how uninterested I was, they lost the will to argue. Yannick sat down beside my bed and took my hand. "I'll go home and get you a few changes of clothes. You can tell me which ones you like..."

Clothes I liked?

I let out a bitter laugh.

Was there even a single thing in that closet that I actually liked?

I had always preferred bright, playful dresses with a touch of sexiness.

But Yvonne always said they were too flashy and would detract from Yannick's cool, aloof aura.

Over time, my closet had become nothing but black, white, and gray.

I protested to Yannick more than once, but he would only reply coolly, "You're still young. Yvonne knows better, so just listen to her."

Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. Feeling wronged, I confronted him. "I'm young, so I should be able to wear whatever I like! Why should I have to run everything by Yvonne when it comes to how I dress?"

I poured out all my pent-up hurt and frustration, then covered my ears, waiting for Yannick to either lecture me or offer a few words of comfort.

But after waiting for what felt like forever, I looked up, only to realize he hadn't been listening to me at all. He was on the phone.