On the day of the wedding banquet, Lily Bennett tried to kill herself—again.
My husband set down his glass and walked out without hesitation.
Under the gaze of a hall full of guests, I grabbed his wrist, lowering my voice.
“Today is our wedding. Our parents are here.”
“If you leave now, what are they supposed to think?”
He pulled his hand free, his brows knitting tightly.
“Lily just lost her parents. She’s emotionally unstable. I’m her attending physician—I’m responsible for her.
”
“You’re a doctor too. You should understand that a life is at stake. Don’t be so unreasonable.”
A bitter ache spread through my chest. I let out a cold laugh before I could stop myself.
“Are you worried about your patient… or because that patient is her?”
His steps faltered for a moment—but he didn’t turn back.
I clenched my fists and shouted after him.
“Ethan Walker! If you walk out that door, don’t ever come back!”
He finally stopped.
Then turned around, his gaze heavy and unreadable.
“You’re pregnant. Watch your emotions. Stop making a scene.”
With that, he left—without a single glance back.
Half an hour later, Lily updated her social media:
【The one who always arrives before death itself is Dr. Walker. For the one who loves me, I’ll keep living well from now on.】
In the photo, Ethan’s hand—still wearing his wedding ring—was interlocked with hers.
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