Dead for Her Love

I was dead.

When I came around, I realized that my spirit was lingering around Christine Leigh. I was tied to her, unable to escape.

She was wearing the wedding gown that I had designed for her, pacing anxiously outside the surgery theater.

This moment cut my heart into a million pieces. No wonder she asked me to design a wedding gown not long ago. I thought that she had finally agreed to a wedding.

However, it turned out…

We had known each other for ten years, and I was hospitalized countless times, yet I had never once seen her like this.

I died an hour ago on the surgery table, less than 500 meters away from her.

Yet, I was not as important as Henry Carson.

At that moment, the doctor exited the theater and, with a long sigh, said, "The liver transplant surgery went extremely well. Don't worry. The patient will be transferred to the general ward soon."

Christine was so delighted that she cried tears of joy.

She eagerly rushed into Henry's ward and held his hand.

"Henry, I promised you that if the surgery was a success, I would come and see you in a wedding gown. I have a ring with me, too. Look. This is your favorite brand."

She excitedly placed a ring on Henry's finger.

Henry responded with a gentle smile.

I took one look, and my heart instantly sank. I remembered our wedding ring in the dirty water in a mop bucket.

"Jason will be upset if he finds out about this. Let's not…"

Henry feigned a worried look and tried to take off the ring, but Christine stopped him.

With a darkened gaze, she said, "He has no right to be upset! He's nothing but a pet that my family had adopted.

"Just because he donated his liver to you, he had been taking advantage of the situation and constantly calling me.

"If my father hadn't bought him from the human traffickers, he would've been long dead. Donating a liver is nothing at all. I can't stand his pretentious attitude."

Seeing the disdain on her face, it felt as if someone had squeezed tightly on my heart, so much so that I could not breathe.

It looked like one could still feel disappointment even after their death. It was much more painful than when the doctors cut me open on the surgery table.

The despair and suffocation I felt before death overwhelmed me once more.

In my final moments, I remembered thinking about how no one would look after Christine once I died.

Before dying, I had used up all of my remaining strength to call her. I pleaded with her, saying, "Christine, can you come and see me? I think I'm about to…"

Before I could finish, she impatiently interrupted me. "Jason Lowe, enough! You only had a liver transplant! It's not like you're dying! Stop annoying me! You've called me more than a dozen times now! Just stop!"

"No, Christine, it's…"

Then, I saw only darkness, and my phone fell to the ground. Before I lost all consciousness, I heard the disconnecting tone of the call.

Christine was still reprimanding me with a grim expression, saying, "He gets up at five every morning to make me breakfast. Then, he keeps harassing me to drink some health supplement tea. All he does is pretend to be nice."

I chuckled self-deprecatingly. I had been doing all this only because she had developed a serious gastric condition due to her long-time drinking some time ago.

It took me five years to nurse her back to health, so much so that she could finally attend business events and happily drink to her heart's desire.

Suddenly, an angry yell came from the corridors.

"Christine Leigh, you murderer! Come out now! Come out, you murderer!"