Chapter 2
I was rushed to the Intensive Care Unit.
They said I had something called broken heart syndrome.
They tried to save me, again and again. When I finally woke up, Ethan was standing there, his expression heavy behind a surgical mask.
A patch of his hair had turned white.
He was clutching my test results, unable to speak.
Everything around me seemed to vanish in an instant.
It felt like I was back to the first time I met him.
That time, it was a misdiagnosis.
But this time, I knew it was real.
Ethan's brows furrowed. "It's an astrocytoma. It's almost impossible to cure. The surgery is incredibly risky, and it demands absolute precision. If I slip up even once, you could be paralyzed, and your life would be nothing but suffering."
I already knew.
Being married to him, I knew all these medical terms by heart.
I nodded, wordless.
He turned to me suddenly. "But I'll do everything I can, Sophia. Trust me, I promise I'll give it everything I've got."
He held my hand, his eyes rimmed with red, his beard growing wild. He didn't look as put-together as usual.
The longer I looked at him, the more my throat tightened.
Right now he really did love me, didn't he?
Otherwise, why would his hair turn white overnight for me? Why would he stop caring about his appearance because of me?
A warm feeling flooded my heart, and I clung to that hope with everything I had.
After that, Ethan barely mentioned Chloe anymore. He was all about me and my illness.
He got up early every day, drove our son to school and picked him up, and always brought him along to visit me at the hospital.
He cooked for me, took out all the bones from the fish for me, bought me shampoo, and even washed my hair right there in the hospital.
All the other patients in the ward envied me.
"Miss Reed, your husband treats you so well. Mine asked for a divorce the moment he learned I was sick," one of them said.
"Look around this ward, how many women here have their husbands bringing them food every day? Miss Reed, I'm so envious of you," another chimed in.
Listening to all that, I quietly saved a note on my phone.
[Ethan... you do love me, don't you? Everyone can see it.]
The first round of treatment went really well.
Ethan decided it was time for the first surgery, he would start by removing part of the tumor.
He organized countless meetings, determined to get every detail right.
All he wanted was to find the best surgical plan possible.
Every time the meetings dragged on into the night, and I was kept awake by the pain, I'd see him standing outside my window.
His eyes always looked so sad.
Whenever he looked at me, it was like a storm of emotions was swirling inside him.
His hair was getting whiter by the day.
He was wasting away right before my eyes.
It was like he was sharing half my pain.
Finally, he brought in his old professor. That day, Ethan stormed in, seized my hand, and couldn't hold back his tears.
"My mentor and one of my senior colleagues have agreed to operate with me. They're both leading experts in this field, so they'll be able to give you better treatment," he said.
I reached out to wipe the tears from the corner of his eyes.
But he instinctively recoiled.
For a moment, we were both stunned.
My hand hovered in the air, and the embarrassed expression on his face made the atmosphere even weirder.
He hurried out, flustered.
That night, I couldn't sleep at all. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind was flooded with thoughts.
Tears kept falling, and I couldn't hold them back.
Just then, Ethan sent me a message: [Hey, try not to worry too much. Get some rest tonight. The surgery's first thing in the morning, and everything's going to be alright.]
Then, he posted on his social media.
He shared a picture of a green plant from home, along with a simple line. [I'll be there for you through every hardship.]
At that moment, I couldn't hold back my tears and gave him a like.
I wanted to reply, but my fingers kept typing out message after message, only for me to delete them all, over and over again.