The Saint Goes Nuts

In the cold chain warehouse, medicines rolled across the floor as blood gushed out from between my fingers, which were pressed tightly to my abdomen.

My body, which I no longer had the strength to keep upright, was leaning against the small window set into the warehouse's door.

The fear of death enveloped me. After eight years of failing to get pregnant, I had been looking forward to the birth of this child in my belly, whom I had conceived with great difficulty. I hadn't even had the time to share this joy with my family yet.

I couldn't die here.

Through my blurry vision, I saw a man in a white coat hurrying past, and my heart surged with joy.

I hurriedly fumbled for my phone and speed-dialed my emergency contact. My call was answered immediately.

I cried, "Xavier! Save me! I've been—"

In the next instant, the man outside the door—my husband, Xavier Goodwin—anxiously ran off with a crying Cynthia Musich in his arms.

As he passed by, he cast an indifferent glance toward the window through which he could see me calling for help. The annoyance in his eyes made me feel as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me.

"Cynthia was stabbed, and her life is at stake, so can you please stop making trouble? Just come out on your own," he snapped before hanging up the phone.

My phone fell to the floor, but I no longer had the strength to pick it up and call for help again.

Xavier didn't know that I could no longer get out.

Cynthia's wailing made him summon all the nurses outside the door for fear that something would happen to her without enough hands on standby.

Before I managed to knock the family member who caused the incident unconscious, they had stabbed me several times with their knife—thrice of which had been in my abdomen.

My vision gradually darkened due to excessive blood loss.

In my last moment on Earth, the only sound I could hear was that of Xavier's hurriedly receding footsteps.

I weakly opened my mouth, looking in the direction Xavier had run off.

Tears slowly slid down my face, but I couldn't get a single word out in the end.

What could I even say?

For Cynthia, he would not look back.

Before my consciousness faded completely, I heard my mother's crying voice in my ears, accompanied by the crackling of static.

"Hang in there just a little longer, honey! Don't go to sleep!" cried my mother, Lyra Lindsey. "It's my fault! I should've told you to get divorced long ago! Will you please forgive me? Please wake up!"

However, I really didn't have the strength to lift my heavy eyelids anymore.

…

The heart monitor flatlined, letting out an extended beep. I suddenly felt my body become lighter, and it felt as if I were flying.

As my soul left my body, I caught sight of my own defeated expression.

My abdominal cavity had been cut open, layer by layer, revealing an almost fully formed fetus that had been mutilated.

There were stab wounds of varying depths all over my body.

I was one of the best gynecologists in Golsing City, who had performed more than a thousand surgeries without making a single mistake.

Therefore, I could clearly tell that there was no hope for me and my child.

Or, at least, I couldn't save us.

A pink mobile phone had been placed next to my pillow. My mother's heartrending screams could still be heard through it, and my heart was filled with guilt listening to her wails.

I wanted to tell her to take care of herself, but my incorporeal body simply went right through the phone.

"I'm sorry for making you so sad," I thought silently.

My soul was suddenly sucked away by an unknown force, and I passed through the ceiling to arrive in the operating room upstairs.

Coming face-to-face with Xavier, a man as handsome as that of a movie star, caused me to suck in a sharp breath.

Taking advantage of the fact that nobody could see me, I carefully observed the husband with whom I hadn't been on speaking terms with for an entire month.

I highly prioritized aesthetic attraction in a partner, and just like Xavier, I was obsessed with the medical profession.

We had frequently met at various award ceremonies around the country due to our equally outstanding abilities, so we naturally started seeing each other.

It had been eight years since then, and we had treated each other with mutual respect throughout all those years.

The only thing that troubled us was that we had continuously failed to conceive a child.

As this thought ran through my mind, I couldn't resist punching and kicking at Xavier.

I wanted to cry, but as a soul, I didn't have the ability to produce tears.

Just then, a nurse—Patty Carroll—pushed open the doors of the operating room.

"There was an incident in the operating room downstairs, and the patient has lost consciousness, Dr. Goodwin. You're being called downstairs to help," she informed him.

Nobody had expected me to be carrying a child. The body of a pregnant woman would instinctively protect the child in its womb, to the point of sacrificing its own energy to sustain the child's life.

Xavier was the best chief surgeon in the Traumatology Department, so being summoned like this was a common occurrence.

However, today, he remained unmoved and continued to disinfect Cynthia's wounds.

"I've already begun the operation here, so please call on other available doctors within the department."

Patty frowned and attempted to persuade him otherwise. "I still suggest that you go down and have a look, Dr. Goodwin. After all, the patient is—"

Before she could even finish her sentence, Xavier interrupted her impatiently. "All lives are equal, so I don't care who she is. I want to start operating on my patient now, so please get out."

He looked sharply at Patty, his gaze going right through my body, but his hands continued to work on stitching up Cynthia's wounds.

I knew from the familiarity in his movements that this operation was an easy one for him, but he just didn't feel at ease leaving Cynthia's side.

"I don't care if it's some dignitary waiting downstairs—they gain no privileges from me. Get out," he said coldly.

Although he often received criticism from the hospital director—Hubert Earwood—for it, Xavier never showed his patients any favoritism.

I was actually rather happy that he could retain his principles in this complicated world, but I couldn't help feeling slightly bitter at the thought that our child would never see Xavier's face before dying.