Delivery Room Shock: My Wife Is My Patient

The nurse beside the man held out the surgical consent form. "We need a family member's signature before the surgery. What's your relationship to the patient?"

He took the pen. Even his hands trembled as he signed his name.

"She's my wife," he said.

The words made me feel a pang in my chest. My mind flashed back to a year ago, when Willow Jensen had smiled as she handed me our marriage certificate.

"Zayn, from today onwards, we're officially husband and wife in every way."

As if noticing my momentary daze, the man looked up at me with reddened eyes. Confusion was written all over his face.

I quickly lowered my head and adjusted the mask over the bridge of my nose to hide my expression. Then, I turned and pushed open the operating room doors.

"We'll do everything we can for the patient," I said.

However, the relationship between Willow and me had just come to an end.

After an intensive round of emergency treatment, Willow's condition stabilized. The tense atmosphere in the operating room gradually relaxed.

The colleague beside me lowered his voice and gossiped. "I heard these two ended up like this because they got a little too carried away. The baby's already due, and her husband still didn't know when to stop. Young people these days do put their lives on the line when they're madly in love..."

My hands stilled for a few seconds.

What came to mind was the day Willow had proposed to me. Her eyes sparkled like the brightest star in the night sky, as though she wanted to give me everything good in this world.

"Marry me, Zayn Stuart. For the rest of my life, besides you, I will never touch another man!"

But on our wedding night, she had carefully put every piece of clothing I had taken off back on me. Her expression back then had shown a lot of pain and inner conflict.

"I'm sorry, Zayn. I swore at my mother's grave that I'd mourn for her for three years. This year is the third year. Please wait for me a little longer."

I believed her. My punishment for placing my trust in her was that the child I had just helped deliver was hers.

A mocking smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

So it wasn't that she wouldn't touch another man because she was honoring her vow. It was simply because she didn't love me.

Before long, the surgery ended successfully.

I held the newborn in my arms. The baby wasn't heavy, yet the weight on my chest was crushing me.

As I pushed open the operating room doors, the man waiting outside immediately sprang to his feet and rushed over. His bloodshot eyes were filled with worry and anxiety.

"How's Willow?"

Looking at the man before me, I recalled the name he had signed on the consent form just moments ago.

Simon Shaw.

It was an unfamiliar name. Willow had never mentioned him to me before.

I placed the baby into his arms and offered my congratulations. "Congratulations. The surgery was very successful. The mother and daughter are both safe."

The tension on Simon's face visibly melted away. When he looked at me, his eyes were filled with the gratitude of a complete stranger.

He was about to say something else when Willow's hospital bed was wheeled out from behind me.

She called out feebly, "Simon..."

She lay on the bed, looking extremely weak.

Simon immediately shoved past me and hurried to her side.

Willow stroked the baby with one hand while holding Simon's hand with the other. Even her voice carried a tenderness I had never once heard from her.

She said, "Simon, our daughter looks so much like you. When she grows up, she'll definitely be as good-looking as you."