My Life Was Saved, but My Marriage EndedChapter 1
The moment I heard the violent screech of tires, Oliver McDaniel yanked me into his arms, wedging me between him and the seat. In the end, he was left with fractures across his entire body, confined to the ICU for half a month. I, on the other hand, walked away with just a scratch on my arm. All the while, his phone still buzzed with messages from his lover.
When he finally woke up, a friend joked, “You say you don’t have feelings for her, but you almost gave your life for her.”
Oliver paused for a beat. After ensuring I wasn’t around, he replied coolly, “I saved her because I’m a man, and she’s my wife. It’s my duty to protect her. But the reason I did it? That’s just being a man—I couldn’t help it.”
——
Through the barely open door, I caught a glimpse of him leaning against the window, half his face obscured by smoke. “Please keep an eye on the house in the west. Anna Morgan is still young, and I don’t want her getting swindled during the renovations.”
“We’ll get a car together soon. I’ll teach her to drive, so she won’t have to rely on taxis to visit me. It’s dangerous, and I can’t stop worrying.” As he lit another cigarette, the brief flicker of the flame illuminated the conflicted expression on his face.
"I shouldn’t have restricted Lisa Welch’s work in the first place. If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t be around me all the time. Annoying."
Just as I opened the door, I caught the last word. The room fell silent for a moment. Oliver stubbed out his cigarette and looked up, his expression unchanged.
"Lisa—how long have you been standing there?"
"I’ve been in the hospital too long, and I’m worried the company might suffer. It’s stressing me out," he said as he casually picked up the soup. But then his indifferent look turned to sudden worry.
"What happened? Why are you hurt so badly?" Oliver lowered his gaze, staring at the redness and swelling snaking from my fingertips to my arm, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed.
"The soup… it spilled."
I'm not very good at cooking. Oliver always said that dealing with the kitchen fumes should be his job, so over the years, I’ve rarely cooked.
“I hope you get better soon,” he said. “And get out of the hospital quickly.”
I bit my lip, and all the emotions I thought I had buried turned into quiet sobs as soon as I tried to speak.