Johnson lost his temper again. He forbade anyone from saying anything that even hinted at death.It was as though avoiding the word would somehow stop me from dying.Ella, on the other hand, looked delighted. “We’ll let her rest on the bed for a few more days. If her key indicators aren’t improving, she’ll only affect me. Johnson, don’t worry. I’ll come out of the surgery just fine.”The unethical doctor who had once operated on me glanced at her, then at me on the sickbed. He wanted to say something, but no words came out of his mouth.Perhaps he, too, pitied me that I was about to be taken piece by piece.After a week, they wheeled me into the operating theater. After the anesthesia went in, I lost consciousness.When I regained a faint trace of consciousness, my hand felt slightly numb. I thought I had already died on the operating table when they took my heart away from me. Why was my mind still aware?I slowly opened my eyes and saw the man who simply refused to leave me al
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