Her First Love Killed Me, but I Owe an Apology?

When I, Charles Jenkins, opened my eyes again, Joanne Anderson was still by Steven Lane's side. Joanne was my wife, and Steven was her first love.

Her face was pale as she hurried to tend to his wounds, her movements frantic and unsteady.

Joanne forced the doctor who was supposed to rush me into the emergency room to stay with Steven.

She was terrified that something bad might happen to him.

Meanwhile, my body lay alone on a hospital bed, abandoned and ignored.

The sight stunned me. I finally snapped out of it when I saw Joanne force down her fear to lean in close and softly comfort Steven.

"He's ruthless! How could Charles hurt you this badly? But don't worry, Steven. I'm here. I'll make sure you're alright!" she said.

Steven had clearly seen me lying motionless on the hospital bed, yet he still put on a frail, frightened act.

He asked her, "Jo, how's Charles? I didn't mean to fight back and get blood on him. Is he going to blame me again?"

Joanne's expression darkened instantly. "Don't worry. He won't die that easily. He's just putting on a show. He's frighteningly convincing. It's a shame he didn't go into acting."

I felt my heart ache sharply.

In Joanne's eyes, everything I did was nothing more than an attempt to frame Steven. I would even pretend to be worse off than him, just to win her sympathy.

The police arrived soon after. When they saw me lying on the bed, covered in blood and completely unattended, they stared at Joanne in disbelief.

"How can you call yourselves doctors?" one of them questioned. "Why hasn't this patient been sent to the emergency room? Don't you know he could die?"

Joanne cast me a cold glance and let out a mocking laugh. "Don't worry. He's not injured at all. He's only lying there, faking it.

"Since you're here, I can't keep pretending I didn't see anything either. Charles has severely injured Steven. If I hadn't arrived in time, he would've killed Steven. I'm pressing charges for attempted murder."

Certain that I wasn't dead, she strode over to my body and kicked the hospital bed viciously. "Hey! That's enough. Stop pretending. Do you really think acting this convincingly will get you out of trouble?

"You nearly killed Steven! There's no way I'm letting you off this time. Get up and apologize to Steven. Maybe then I'll help you get a lighter sentence."

She spoke as if I should spring up at once, overwhelmed with gratitude for her mercy.

Anyone could tell that I was no longer alive.

Already feeling uneasy, the doctors and nurses who had been forced to stay were holding back their anger. Now that they had seen with their own eyes that I was truly dead—and that she was still demanding I get up and apologize to Steven—they couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Joanne, Charles isn't pretending this time," someone finally said. "He's really dead."

Joanne bristled the moment someone spoke up for me. "Are you out of your mind?" she snapped. "Can't you tell when someone's acting? If that's the case, you should quit being a doctor and go be a janitor."

Everyone froze when they saw that Joanne, a renowned doctor, still insisted I was faking it. They shook with anger.

The police immediately understood what was going on. One of them let out a heavy breath and reached for his phone to contact the medical examiner.

Joanne lunged forward and snatched the phone away, deleting the contact on the spot. "I told you he's not dead! Why call a medical examiner? I'm not airing my dirty laundry in public! If this blows up, we'll become a laughingstock! I'm not as shameless as he is. I can't afford that kind of humiliation!"

She then turned back to me and slapped my face several times, hard, impatience written all over her face. "Charles, this is my final warning. If you don't get up and apologize to Steven right now, get ready to rot in prison!"

The only response she got was the blood seeping slowly from my wounds.

Joanne froze for a brief second. She felt a terrible premonition creeping up inside her, and she instinctively reached out, about to lift my shirt.

I held my breath, staring at her hand.

If she lifted my shirt, she would see that the blood on my body was not smeared from Steven, nor did it come from a blood pack.

But at that critical moment, Steven let out a faint groan. "Jo, my arm hurts so much. It's so noisy here. I want to go home."

Any hesitation Joanne had vanished instantly, along with the strange unease that had just surfaced.

She rushed back to Steven at once, carefully helping him up. As she passed the police, she made sure to remind them, "If you're here to arrest someone, then hurry up and take the criminal away."

She was my wife, yet she couldn't wait for the police to take my body away.

For a moment, everyone felt the absurdity of it.

I, on the other hand, gave a bitter smile. In her eyes, I would never matter more than Steven.

Maybe dying was for the best. I would never have to endure her blatant bias again.

Even so, my heart still ached unbearably.