All Chapters of After the Divorce, My Billionaire Husband Lost His Mind: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

“We had to make the decision.”The world stopped.Not metaphorically.Not emotionally.Actually stopped.The hallway disappeared around me.The sounds.The movement.The hospital lights.Everything narrowed into the doctor standing in front of me.And those six words.No.I stood too quickly.The chair behind me scraped harshly against the floor.“No.”The word came out empty.Like my body already knew before my mind accepted it.The doctor looked exhausted.Grim.And suddenly I realized something horrifying.He looked sorry.My chest tightened so violently it became hard to breathe.“Who?” I asked.The question nearly killed me coming out.Because I already knew.This was the moment.The one I feared since the second they said complications.And now—My entire future balanced on the next sentence.The doctor swallowed carefully.“Your wife lost consciousness during the procedure.”I couldn’t feel my hands anymore.“We reached a point where both heart rates became unstable.”No.Pleas

“She’s crashing.”The words detonated through the room.Everything after that happened too fast.And somehow not fast enough.Doctors moved around Elara in a blur.Machines screamed.Orders were shouted across the room.But all I could focus on was her.Her face had gone ghostly pale again.Her breathing uneven.Terrified.And her eyes—God.Her eyes were searching for me through the chaos.“Julian—”I moved instantly.The nurse tried to stop me again.“Sir—”“That’s my wife.”The desperation in my voice cut through the room sharply enough that even the staff hesitated.I reached the bedside again.Grabbed her hand immediately.“I’m here.”Her fingers clung to mine weakly.Desperately.“I can’t breathe properly,” she whispered.Panic ripped through me.The doctor looked sharply at one of the monitors.“She’s going into cardiac distress.”My entire body went cold.No.“No.”I shook my head instantly.“Fix it.”The doctor ignored me.Focused entirely on Elara.“We need to move her now.”

“When my heart stopped…”A trembling breath escaped her.“I thought I lost you forever.”My chest tightened so violently it hurt.I moved closer instantly.Careful of the wires.Careful of her oxygen line.Careful of everything except the panic surging through me.“Elara.”Her eyes stayed fixed on mine.Still dazed.Still fragile.But deeply aware.“I heard voices,” she whispered weakly.Fear crawled up my spine.“What voices?”“The doctors.”A pause.“And then nothing.”Her fingers trembled slightly against mine.“It was so quiet.”God.I tightened my grip around her hand immediately.As if physical contact alone could anchor her here permanently.“But the worst part?”Her voice cracked softly.“I thought you’d be alone again.”That shattered me.Not her fear of dying.Not the pain.That.Even while her heart stopped—She was worried about me.A rough breath left my chest.“You almost died and you were thinking about me?”A faint, exhausted sadness touched her expression.“You’re my

The first morning after tragedy felt wrong.Too quiet.Too ordinary.Sunlight slipped softly through the ICU blinds as if the world had not changed overnight.As if somewhere, people were still commuting to work, drinking coffee, laughing at stupid messages on their phones.Meanwhile—Our daughter was dead.And Elara had almost died with her.The disconnect felt violent.I barely slept.Maybe an hour at most.Every time my eyes closed, I saw the surgeon stepping out of the operating room.Your wife’s heart stopped during the procedure.Even now the memory made my chest tighten painfully.Elara still slept against me lightly.Her breathing steadier than yesterday.Thank God.One of my hands remained tangled carefully with hers beneath the blanket.At some point during the night, holding onto each other stopped feeling optional.A soft knock came at the ICU door.I looked up immediately.Nathan stepped inside quietly.Already dressed for work.Phone in hand.Expression cautious.He stop

Three days later, they moved Elara out of intensive care.The doctors called it progress.Recovery.Stability.But nothing about this felt stable.Not the way she barely spoke some mornings.Not the way I woke up in panic every few hours just to check if she was still breathing.Not the way grief sat between us constantly now—Quiet.Invisible.Present in everything.Even silence sounded different after loss.I stood beside the hospital window while a nurse carefully removed one of Elara’s IV lines.Outside, the city stretched endlessly beneath gray skies.Cold.Busy.Indifferent.“You’re staring like you want to fight the skyline,” Elara murmured weakly from the bed.I turned immediately toward her.“Maybe I do.”A faint tired smile touched her lips.“Very billionaire of you.”Relief flickered briefly inside my chest.Tiny moments like this mattered now.More than they should.Because every small piece of her personality returning felt like proof she was still here.The nurse finishe