"What kind of wife is this?! She's more like an enemy!"

Mia turned to look at me, tears streaming down her face.

"Sir... please... don't lose hope..."

I forced my eyes open and managed a weak smile.

"I'm not."

At the hospital, they rushed me through the emergency corridor straight to the operating room.

The surgeon held up the consent form, his brow furrowed deeply.

"Where's the family? We need a family member to sign!"

Mia wiped her eyes, her voice cracking.

"His family refused to answer. They said... they said he should sign it himself."

The surgeon froze for a moment.

He looked at my ashen face and let out a heavy sigh.

"Son, are you lucid? Do you understand what's happening?"

I nodded.

"Pen... give me the pen."

My right hand trembled as I reached out, still caked with dried blood.

In the space marked "Patient's Own Signature," I scrawled my name in shaky, uneven strokes.

Each stroke felt like carving into my own flesh.

Each line severed another thread binding me to Katherine.

When I finished, my hand dropped lifelessly to my side.

"Doctor. Do it."

"Cut it clean."

I closed my eyes. A single tear slid down my temple.

The surgical lights blazed to life above me.

The anesthesia spread through my veins—cold, so cold it burned.

As consciousness faded, I drifted into a dream.

I saw our wedding day. Katherine in her pristine white gown, cradling my face in her hands.

"Emmet, I'll protect you from now on. You'll always come first in my life. Always."

The scene shifted. Now she held scissors, her face set in stone as she severed my lifeline without a flicker of hesitation.

When I woke, silence pressed in from every direction.

No beds available in the ICU.

They'd wheeled me back to a general ward.

Dawn light filtered through the window.

Instinctively, I reached down to touch my right leg.

My hand found nothing.

Just flat emptiness. A bandaged stump where my leg used to be.

The nurse had left my phone on the bedside table.

One message. From Katherine. Sent last night.

"Ferdy got such a scare, he's doing psychological counseling and staying for concussion observation. Take a cab home yourself. Don't be dramatic."

"The apartment's a mess. Clean it up when you get back."

I checked the timestamp.

Eight hours.

Eight hours since my amputation surgery ended.

She was in this very hospital.

With that man who didn't have a scratch on him.

I didn't reply.

Powered off the phone.

Tossed it into the drawer.

On the second day after surgery, Katherine finally appeared.

She carried an elegant insulated container, wearing a designer coat that probably cost more than my hospital bill. Her hair was immaculately styled, not a strand out of place.

You'd never guess she'd been anywhere near a car accident.

I lay in the corner bed, watching her push through the door.

I felt nothing.

She walked straight past me.

To the bed beside mine.

Where Ferdinand lay.

For "observation" of his so-called concussion and "psychological trauma," he'd been admitted to my room.

"Ferdy, you must be starving! I got up early to make you black chicken soup—it's the most nourishing thing."

Katherine's voice dripped with tenderness I no longer recognized.

She opened the container.

The rich aroma flooded the room instantly.

Ferdinand reclined against his pillows, his complexion rosy, his eyes bright and alert.

The moment he saw Katherine, he arranged his features into a mask of fragility.

He pressed a hand to his chest and forced out two pathetic coughs.

"Katie, you're too good to me... but I don't have much appetite. I keep thinking about yesterday..."

His gaze drifted toward my corner.

He feigned surprise, as if only just noticing me.

"Oh! Emmet's here too?"

"Katie, why didn't you say so? Quick—give the soup to him. He lost so much blood yesterday. He needs it way more than I do."

Only then did Katherine turn around.

She spotted me huddled beneath the blankets. Her brow furrowed instantly, and the tenderness drained from her face, leaving it cold as marble.

"For him?" She scoffed. "What a waste."

She walked to my bedside and looked down at me, her gaze dripping with contempt.

"Emmet, are you still keeping up this act?"

"You actually bribed a doctor to hook you up to an IV just to make me feel guilty? Do you have any idea how strained medical resources are right now?"

I stared back at her, expressionless. Silent.

My silence only infuriated her more. She took it as defiance—me giving her the cold shoulder.

"Say something! Cat got your tongue?"

Her voice rose sharply, drawing stares from the patient in the next bed.

"The rescue squad said yesterday you were fine. So why are you still lying around this hospital?"

"What, you expect me to wait on you hand and foot? When did you become so manipulative, Emmet?"

Ferdinand chimed in from beside her, his voice dripping with false sympathy.

"Katie, don't be too hard on him. He's probably just in a lot of pain..."

"You should've heard how he was screaming back there. Poor guy must've been terrified."

Pouring gasoline on a fire.

Katherine's anger flared white-hot.

She grabbed the corner of my blanket and yanked. "Get up! Stop playing dead!"

"Apologize to Ferdy. Now."

I clamped down on the blanket with everything I had.

Not just because I couldn't bear for her to see what was left of my body.

But because I refused to expose my wound in front of him.

It was all I had left. My last scrap of dignity.

"I won't apologize."

The words scraped out of my throat, raw and hoarse—the first I'd spoken since the surgery.

Katherine's eyes went wide with disbelief. "What did you just say? You won't apologize?"

"Yesterday you were covered in blood, howling like a banshee—you traumatized Ferdy! He had nightmares all night because of you!"

"You're supposed to be a man, and you made a complete fool of yourself fighting a sick person for a rescue spot. You don't think you owe him an apology?"

"You know Ferdy has claustrophobia! Would it have killed you to let him go first?"

"You're lying here perfectly fine while Ferdy is psychologically scarred because of you! Are you even a man?"

Every word was a blade, twisting deeper into my chest.

Perfectly fine?

I'm perfectly fine?

I looked at her face, contorted with rage, and something in me cracked.

A laugh almost escaped—bitter, hollow.

This was the woman I'd loved for seven years.

Forcing her freshly amputated husband to apologize. For a snake in sheep's clothing.

I said nothing. Just gripped the blanket like a lifeline.

My eyes drifted to the ceiling. Empty. Hollow.

The veins on the back of my hand bulged. Blood crept backward up the IV line.

Katherine saw that neither threats nor reason would move me.

Her patience shattered.

"Fine. Emmet. You want to play it this way?"

She drew a sharp breath and delivered her ultimatum.

"I'm going to count to three."

"If you don't get up and apologize, we're getting a divorce."

"And I mean it."

The ward fell deathly silent.

Slowly, I turned my head. Met her eyes.

And let two words fall from my lips, quiet as a feather drifting to the ground:

"Then divorce."

The silence stretched, suffocating.

Katherine stared at me, stunned. She hadn't expected me to agree—not like this. Not so easily.

The shock lasted only a heartbeat before fury consumed her.

"Oh, impressive, Emmet. Look at you, growing a spine!"

She laughed—sharp, incredulous—and jabbed a finger at my face.

"So now you're using divorce to threaten me?"

"You think this little stunt will make me feel sorry for you? Make me feel guilty?"

"I said no, and I mean it! You're not getting away with this until you apologize to Ferdy!"

Ferdinand tugged lightly at her sleeve, right on cue.

"Katie, don't push him so hard. You know how he is—too proud for his own good. The more you corner him, the more he digs in."

"Deep down, he knows he's wrong. He just can't swallow his pride."

That only stoked Katherine's fury higher.

"Can't swallow his pride? What pride does he have left?"

"A grown man, lying in bed faking illness for sympathy, picking fights with someone who's actually hurt—does he have no shame?"

She reached for my arm, trying to haul me upright.

"Get up! Stop playing dead! You were so tough before, weren't you? Get up and face me!"

The instant her fingers closed around me, pain ripped through my body. I bit down hard, refusing to make a sound.

Every ounce of strength I had went into making myself immovable—a stone sinking into the mattress.

But to Katherine, my stillness was pure defiance.

"Oh, so you want to play stubborn with me?"

She couldn't budge me, and her frustration curdled into rage.

"Emmet, I can't believe I ever trusted you! You're so selfish! All for your pathetic ego—you don't even care that Ferdy's suffering!"

"He's still dizzy! The doctor said he might have post-concussion syndrome! All because you terrified him yesterday with that sick stunt of yours!"

"Happy now? You've managed to hurt both of us!"

I watched her face twist with anger, watched her lips move as she spat those venomous words.

Inside me, there was nothing. Just silence.

I didn't have the will to argue. Not anymore.

Katherine's patience finally shattered. She issued her ultimatum.

"Fine, Emmet. One last chance."

"Right now. Get your ass out of that bed and go kowtow to Ferdy. Beg for his forgiveness."

"Refuse, and I'll have you thrown out of this room today. You won't even have a place to fake being sick."

Slowly, I turned my head.

My hollow gaze met her blazing eyes.

I said nothing.

The silent standoff snapped the last thread of her restraint.

"You won't get up? Fine—I'll help you!"

She shrieked, her expression savage as she lunged forward. Her hands clamped onto my blanket.

"Get out of this bed!"

She threw her full weight backward—

Whoosh—

The thin blanket traced a desperate arc through the air before drifting to the floor.

Time stopped.

The air turned to ice.

Where my right leg should have been—

Nothing.

Just a bandaged stump soaked through with blood, lying alone on the white sheets like a discarded doll's limb.