Chapter 1
The crash happened on the way to our honeymoon.
Grant walked away with a few scratches. I was the one dying.
By the time they got me to the hospital, the doctors were already telling my family to prepare for the worst.
Surgery gave me a thirty percent chance, and somebody had to decide fast.
I couldn't speak and I couldn't move.
All I could do was scream it at Grant with my eyes. "Save me."
He held on to my hand, his eyes red, his whole face coming apart. "Cara, I know how much you hate pain. So don't be scared, baby. We're not doing the surgery."
*****
The moment Grant said, "We're not doing the surgery," desperation tore through me.
But no matter how hard I tried, all that came out of my mouth was a desperate, raspy gasp.
I couldn't so much as shake my head.
"Emily, don't worry," Grant said, gripping my hand tighter, his voice full of reassurance. He kept promising, "I get it, I really do. I promise, I won't let you suffer anymore."
"Mr. Lane," the doctor frowned and urged him, "Your wife is in a lot of pain right now. She needs surgery right away."
But Grant shook his head. "You said there's only a 30% chance of success. That's like sending her to die. How could I be the one to send my wife to her death?"
"Your wife's condition is critical. If we don't operate, she'll die. Every minute we wait makes it more dangerous. Please, you have to agree to the surgery now," the doctor urged, his voice urgent.
A tiny spark of hope flared up inside me.
After everything the doctor said, Grant had to sign the consent form now, right?
A 30% chance of survival was still better than lying there waiting to die.
But to everyone's shock, Grant still shook his head.
Not only that, he glared at the doctor, his face full of anger, and snapped, "You can't promise it'll work. Why are you pushing us so hard to do the surgery?"
The doctor tried to explain, "There's no such thing as a surgery with a 100% success rate."
"If there's any risk at all, I'm not signing," Grant insisted, his voice unwavering.
After turning down the doctor, he looked at me, his eyes full of tenderness. "Emily, don't be afraid. As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you." I wanted to shake my head, to force out a single word, but I couldn't.
All I could do was let those big, hot tears roll down my cheeks, drowning in hopelessness.
I couldn't understand how things had ended up like this.
We were newlyweds on our honeymoon, the happiest moment of our lives.
But then we got into a car accident, and now I was on the brink of death.
There was still a chance to save me, but Grant, because he couldn't bear to see me suffer, stubbornly refused to let them operate.
Was this really it? Was I supposed to lie there and wait to die? My heart went cold.
At that moment, completely helpless, I was overwhelmed by despair and frustration.
Then, with wires and monitors all over me, each one started flashing red alarms.
"Heart rate 130. Respiratory rate over 30." The nurse rushed over, checking the monitors. "She's in critical condition."
"Mr. Lane, your wife needs emergency intervention right now. There's no time to lose," the nurse urged.
"Then what are you all standing around for? Do something," Grant shouted.
"Alright, we need your signature first, and we'll prep for surgery right away." The doctor visibly relaxed as he handed the consent forms for surgery and anesthesia right to Grant.
But Grant slapped the forms aside. "I told you, no surgery."
The doctor was stunned for a moment, then repeated, "Right now, surgery is the only chance your wife has."
Hearing that, Grant ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Is surgery all you people know how to do? If she dies on the table, are you going to take the blame?"
Then he stood up and shouted at the medical staff, "Painkillers, sedatives, whatever it takes to stop my wife from hurting. Do it now."
No one said a word.
The doctor and nurse went quiet, the room heavy with silence.
After a moment, they shot me a look full of pity, like they'd already decided there was no hope for me.
Right then, a familiar ringtone went off.