My husband was in the operating room, fighting for his life. His heart had ruptured due to an acute transmural myocardial infarction.

I reached into my makeup bag, pulled out a mirror, and calmly began drawing my eyebrows, my hands steady despite the chaos around me.

Suddenly, the doors to the operating room burst open with a bang. Dr. Evangeline Drake, the surgeon, ran out, her face drenched in sweat.

"Vivienne! You’re the foremost authority in cardiac surgery in the country—I can’t do this surgery on your husband!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling.

I glanced at my reflection, the half-drawn eyebrow in the mirror, and replied coldly, without looking up.

"I have severe depression. The hospital director has forbidden me from stepping into an operating theater. There’s nothing I can do."

"But Leander’s heart is ruptured! He’s hemorrhaging heavily. Without immediate surgery, he’ll die!" Evangeline cried, desperation thick in her voice.

I turned to her, mockery curling my lips into a sneer. "Let him die. Why are you more anxious than I am?"

——

At that moment, my parents-in-law arrived, their faces etched with panic. Without hesitation, they dropped to their knees in front of me.

"Vivienne, we beg you! Please, save Leander!" my mother-in-law pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

I sighed heavily and set down the mirror. "The hospital director’s orders are explicit—I’m to stay off the operating table and focus on recovery. I can’t break the rules."

Fury flashed across my mother-in-law’s face. She rose, trembling with anger. "Vivienne, don’t hide behind excuses! What could be more important than saving Leander’s life?"

My father-in-law jabbed a finger at me, his voice shaking with rage. "If you don’t save my son today, you’re a murderer! And from this moment on, the Hayes Family will no longer recognize you as our daughter-in-law!"

I could understand my parents-in-law's anger. After all, Leander was their only child, the hope and pride of the Hayes Family.

To them, depression wasn’t a real illness—it was just an excuse, a symptom of idleness. In their words, it was caused by "eating too much and thinking too much."

To their minds, depression was nothing more than pointless whining and morbid dramatics.

Arguing with them was futile, so I didn’t bother. Instead, I calmly stretched out my hand in front of them.

Their eyes widened when they saw it—my hand trembling uncontrollably, my fingers unable to steady. Their gaze shifted to my face, where they met my hollow, lifeless eyes. For a brief moment, their indignation turned to fear.

My mother-in-law collapsed onto the floor with a wail, slapping her thighs as tears streamed down her face.

"My son! How unlucky you are to have this illness—and to have such a wife! What can I do? What can I do?"

Beside her, my father-in-law crouched down, his hands gripping his head, his shoulders shaking as he wept silently.

I inhaled deeply, letting the chaos unfold in front of me as if it were a distant scene in a play. My expression didn’t falter. Without a word, I picked up my makeup mirror again and resumed drawing the other eyebrow.

Leander’s heart had ruptured today, and I’d rushed out without finishing my makeup. There was no better time than now to fix that.

The tremors in my hands, a cruel side effect of my depression, made it impossible to draw a properly shaped eyebrow. The uneven arcs irritated me more than the chaos around me.

Evangeline’s gaze bore into me, her eyes alight with indignation.

"Vivienne! Orders or not, this is your husband! Can you really stand by and watch him die?" she demanded, her voice sharp and trembling with emotion.

"I know you have depression, but can’t you pull yourself together, just this once? Adjust your mood and do what only you can do!"

Her words cut deeper. "You’re the only one who can save Leander. Aren’t you being too cold, too heartless?"

Her voice carried, and soon the patients waiting in the corridor had turned their judgmental eyes toward me. Their whispers quickly swelled into accusations:

"How can this woman be so cold-blooded? If my husband’s life were on the line, I’d disobey even the God himself!"

"Depression? Hypocrisy, more like. Just pop a few pills and get on with it. She’s making excuses!"

"Look at her! So calm, so detached. She probably doesn’t even love her husband. I bet she wants him to die."

The weight of their accusations pushed me over the edge. My emotions spiraled, uncontrollable and raw.

With a snap, the eyebrow pencil in my hand broke. My chest heaved as fury consumed me.

"You fucking bastards! You all want to die, don’t you?" I shouted, my voice trembling with rage.

"It’s your fault—your fault my eyebrows are crooked! I’ll stab you to death!"

I shot up from the chair, my eyes wild, the broken eyebrow pencil clenched in my fist like a weapon. My gaze burned into the crowd that had so brazenly judged me moments before. Without hesitation, I lunged at them.

Chaos erupted. My parents-in-law and Evangeline sprang into action, rushing to restrain me. Evangeline’s voice cut through the panic.

"Stop talking! She has severe depression—she can become irritable and lash out!"

The crowd recoiled in fear, their earlier boldness extinguished. Silence fell as my parents-in-law gently guided me back to my seat, their hands trembling as they held me.

My mother-in-law knelt before me again, her voice cracking with desperation.

"Vivienne, please! Leander’s life is in your hands. I’m begging you—control yourself and save him!"

Her tears fell freely. "Whatever you want, we’ll give it to you. Even our lives, if that’s what it takes!"

I stared blankly at the wall opposite me, her words fading into the background. My body felt numb, my mind an empty void.

Suddenly, the operating room doors flew open again. An assistant ran out, his face pale with urgency.

"Dr. Drake! Come quickly—the patient has no heartbeat!"

Evangeline turned to me, gripping my arm tightly.

"Vivienne! Do you really want to watch your husband die?"

I didn’t move. My gaze remained fixed on the wall, my face devoid of emotion.

Evangeline shook me, her voice climbing in pitch.

"Vivienne! Wake up! Leander is dying!"

A shiver ran through me. Slowly, I turned to her, my expression blank and detached.

"What?"

"Your husband is dying! You’re the only one who can save him!" she repeated, desperation thick in her voice.

I raised my trembling hands, staring at them as though they belonged to someone else. My voice, hollow and distant, answered.

"I can’t save him..."

My mother-in-law’s patience snapped when she realized I was resolute in my decision not to save Leander. Her voice, filled with fury, echoed in the corridor as she stormed toward me.

"Vivienne! You are heartless! Even if your hands are trembling, you must save Leander!"

Her voice cracked with emotion. "Leander loves you more than anything. He’s treated you like a princess, kept you in the palm of his hand. And this is how you repay him?"

Her words came faster now, each one sharper than the last.

"Since the day you married, he’s been working tirelessly to give you the best life. Do you know how he got that heart attack? It was from overwork—for you! You ungrateful woman!"

Her accusations cut deep, not because they weren’t true but because they grazed the surface of a reality she didn’t understand.

She wasn’t wrong. Leander was remarkable, even by any standard. Despite coming from the countryside, he had ambition and drive that set him apart. We had met in college, and our relationship blossomed into marriage. Over the past five years, he built a life for us—a villa, a luxury car, financial security—all through his relentless hard work.

But what they didn’t see, what no one saw, was the emotional toll of living behind the facade of Leander's "perfect" life. They didn’t know what I endured, what lay hidden behind the glittering image of happiness and success.

If they knew, would they still call me ungrateful? Would they still demand I save the man who had, intentionally or not, been the source of my suffering?

But I wasn’t about to explain all this to my in-laws, who had no grasp of what depression really was. They wouldn’t understand, nor could they solve my problems.

Seeing my indifference, my father-in-law stepped forward, his jaw tight with anger and desperation.

"Vivienne! Just go in and save Leander. We’ll sign a waiver—right here, right now. No matter what happens, we’ll never hold you responsible, whether the operation succeeds or fails!"

His voice softened slightly, though his resolve didn’t waver.

"We’ll even compensate you for the risks and consequences of breaking hospital regulations."

I froze for a moment, his words catching me off guard.

"Compensate? How?"

He hesitated, then swallowed hard. "All the shares, the villa, the car, the company—everything Leander has worked for over the years. We’ll transfer it all to your name!"

For the first time, their desperation made me waver. My mind spun, caught between hesitation and disbelief.

Before I could respond, the assistant burst out of the operating room again, his face pale and panicked. He turned to my in-laws, his voice trembling with urgency.

"The patient is dying! He said he was sorry to Ms. Vivienne and promised to treat her well in the next life..."

The assistant’s words cut through the air like a dagger. My parents-in-law screamed in anguish, releasing their grip on me as they stumbled into the operating room.

Moments later, they rushed back out, their faces pale and streaked with tears. Without hesitation, they collapsed to their knees before me.

"Vivienne, please!" my mother-in-law sobbed, her voice trembling. "Please give Leander the surgery. Dr. Drake said there’s still a chance to save him!"

She knelt closer, bowing her head to the floor as if her desperation could reach my heart. My father-in-law, hands shaking, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from a nearby nurse. He hastily scrawled a property donation agreement, signed it, and thrust it toward me with his wife’s signature already scribbled below his own.

Tears welled in their eyes, the weight of their hope bearing down on me. For a moment, I faltered.

My parents-in-law had always been kind to me. I remember the summer when Leander first took me to his hometown. They’d killed their only egg-laying hen to prepare chicken soup for me, a stranger they treated like family.

They had held my hands warmly and said, "We’ve always wanted a daughter. Since we didn’t have one, we’ll treat you as ours."

After I married Leander, their generosity never wavered. Every month, they drove miles to deliver fresh vegetables they’d grown themselves—free from pesticides, full of care.

Even as our lives improved and Leander and I moved to the city, they refused to leave their modest home for fear of disturbing us. When I told them I wasn’t ready for children, they didn’t pressure me, even though I knew they longed for grandchildren.

For years, I thought I had been blessed beyond measure to have a husband and family like this.

Until I uncovered the truth about Leander. Until everything I believed shattered.

The weight of those memories pressed on my chest, my heart tightening as conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm me.

Evangeline’s sharp voice snapped me out of my thoughts. His glare was cold, his words biting.

"Vivienne! You’re despicable! Even now, with Leander’s life hanging by a thread, all you can think about is the Hayes Family’s property?"

His voice rose with fury.

"Your husband is dying! Do you even have a shred of humanity left? You’re heartless!"

My parents-in-law noticed my unsettling demeanor and quickly pulled Evangeline aside, their voices trembling with urgency.

"Dr. Drake, please don’t provoke her! If she has another episode, Leander will truly have no hope!"

Evangeline took a deep breath, composing herself. When she turned back to me, her expression was cold, her tone sharp and resolute.

"Vivienne, fine! If you refuse to save him, I will. It’s just a heart rupture operation—I’ll do it myself!" Her voice was firm, almost defiant. "I don’t believe for one second that no one else is capable except you!"

Her determination struck a chord with the onlookers. Murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd.

"That’s the true spirit of an angel in white, saving lives without hesitation!" one said.

"Vivienne is trash. What kind of doctor abandons their ethics like this?" another spat, their disdain palpable.

"If Leander survives, Dr. Drake deserves every reward! She’s the real hero here!"

Without sparing me another glance, Evangeline stormed into the operating room, her urgency palpable. I simply sank back into my chair, watching the scene unfold with cold indifference.

The drama playing out before me was almost comical. Their performances were so convincing they might as well have been auditioning for an Oscar.

My parents-in-law, now despondent, slumped into chairs nearby, their hands wringing with anxiety as they waited for the operation’s outcome.

I smirked inwardly, my thoughts laced with bitter amusement.

Let’s see what act they’ll put on next.

Perhaps exhaustion finally claimed me, because I dozed off in the chair. When I woke up, the corridor was quieter, the tension in the air somewhat subdued.

I spotted Ronan, the assistant from the operating room, walking toward me in plain clothes, having shed his protective suit. Rising from my seat, I intercepted him.

"Is Leander saved?" I asked, my voice even but laced with curiosity.