My Husband Faked a Heart Condition to Get Rid of Me

My husband was in the operating room, fighting for his life. His heart had ruptured due to an acute transmural myocardial infarction.

I reached into my makeup bag, pulled out a mirror, and calmly began drawing my eyebrows, my hands steady despite the chaos around me.

Suddenly, the doors to the operating room burst open with a bang. Dr. Evangeline Drake, the surgeon, ran out, her face drenched in sweat.

"Vivienne! You’re the foremost authority in cardiac surgery in the country—I can’t do this surgery on your husband!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling.

I glanced at my reflection, the half-drawn eyebrow in the mirror, and replied coldly, without looking up.

"I have severe depression. The hospital director has forbidden me from stepping into an operating theater. There’s nothing I can do."

"But Leander’s heart is ruptured! He’s hemorrhaging heavily. Without immediate surgery, he’ll die!" Evangeline cried, desperation thick in her voice.

I turned to her, mockery curling my lips into a sneer. "Let him die. Why are you more anxious than I am?"

——

At that moment, my parents-in-law arrived, their faces etched with panic. Without hesitation, they dropped to their knees in front of me.

"Vivienne, we beg you! Please, save Leander!" my mother-in-law pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

I sighed heavily and set down the mirror. "The hospital director’s orders are explicit—I’m to stay off the operating table and focus on recovery. I can’t break the rules."

Fury flashed across my mother-in-law’s face. She rose, trembling with anger. "Vivienne, don’t hide behind excuses! What could be more important than saving Leander’s life?"

My father-in-law jabbed a finger at me, his voice shaking with rage. "If you don’t save my son today, you’re a murderer! And from this moment on, the Hayes Family will no longer recognize you as our daughter-in-law!"

I could understand my parents-in-law's anger. After all, Leander was their only child, the hope and pride of the Hayes Family.

To them, depression wasn’t a real illness—it was just an excuse, a symptom of idleness. In their words, it was caused by "eating too much and thinking too much."

To their minds, depression was nothing more than pointless whining and morbid dramatics.

Arguing with them was futile, so I didn’t bother. Instead, I calmly stretched out my hand in front of them.

Their eyes widened when they saw it—my hand trembling uncontrollably, my fingers unable to steady. Their gaze shifted to my face, where they met my hollow, lifeless eyes. For a brief moment, their indignation turned to fear.

My mother-in-law collapsed onto the floor with a wail, slapping her thighs as tears streamed down her face.

"My son! How unlucky you are to have this illness—and to have such a wife! What can I do? What can I do?"

Beside her, my father-in-law crouched down, his hands gripping his head, his shoulders shaking as he wept silently.

I inhaled deeply, letting the chaos unfold in front of me as if it were a distant scene in a play. My expression didn’t falter. Without a word, I picked up my makeup mirror again and resumed drawing the other eyebrow.

Leander’s heart had ruptured today, and I’d rushed out without finishing my makeup. There was no better time than now to fix that.

The tremors in my hands, a cruel side effect of my depression, made it impossible to draw a properly shaped eyebrow. The uneven arcs irritated me more than the chaos around me.

Evangeline’s gaze bore into me, her eyes alight with indignation.

"Vivienne! Orders or not, this is your husband! Can you really stand by and watch him die?" she demanded, her voice sharp and trembling with emotion.

"I know you have depression, but can’t you pull yourself together, just this once? Adjust your mood and do what only you can do!"

Her words cut deeper. "You’re the only one who can save Leander. Aren’t you being too cold, too heartless?"

Her voice carried, and soon the patients waiting in the corridor had turned their judgmental eyes toward me. Their whispers quickly swelled into accusations:

"How can this woman be so cold-blooded? If my husband’s life were on the line, I’d disobey even the God himself!"

"Depression? Hypocrisy, more like. Just pop a few pills and get on with it. She’s making excuses!"

"Look at her! So calm, so detached. She probably doesn’t even love her husband. I bet she wants him to die."