Eight Years of Fake Marriage, I Finally Let Go

Terrence jerked the steering wheel, but the collision was unavoidable.

The violent impact sent the entire car into a brutal shake, airbags bursting open in an instant.

My head slammed against the seat, dizziness flooding my senses.

Instinctively, I wanted to check if Terrence was safe. But he didn't spare me a single glance.

Every shred of his attention was on Sienna. He even used his body as a shield, holding her tightly in his arms.

"Sienna, are you still with me?" His voice trembled with panic I had never heard before, blood dripping down his forehead that he didn't bother to wipe away.

In his arms, Sienna whimpered, shivering like a wounded bird. "Terrence, my hand hurts... my head too..."

They were performing their tragic love story in the front seat.

And I—the one hurt the most—sat forgotten in the back.

Without the protection of an airbag, the force of the crash threw me hard against the door, then slammed me back again.

My head smashed into the window, glass shattering into glittering shards. The wound on my back tore wider, warm blood soaking rapidly through my clothes.

Only then did Terrence glance toward the rear seats.

Hesitation flickered in his eyes... but in the next heartbeat, he turned back to Sienna.

Sirens wailed in the distance, drawing closer. Onlookers rushed forward, prying at the mangled doors, shouting for help.

"Save Sienna first!" Terrence's urgent cry cut through the chaos, as if he had completely forgotten that I was still trapped, bleeding, barely conscious.

My vision blurred, crimson flooding every corner. I struggled to scream for help, to make him remember me.

Just once—I wanted the man I had saved years ago to save me in return. But Terrence carried Sienna carefully out of the car, murmuring soft reassurances.

He didn't look back. Not once. Not even for a single heartbeat of hesitation.

The numbness of blood loss crept through my limbs.

As darkness closed in, one last bitter thought surfaced: He once promised, when proposing, that he would never let me get hurt. Yet he couldn't keep that vow for even a single year.

...

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital bed.

"You're awake!" The nurse's voice quivered with excitement. "If you haven't woken up soon, Mr. Hanson was ready to buy out the entire hospital just for you!"

Her eyes softened with envy. "You're so lucky to have a husband who loves you this much. He even had people redecorate your ward so you'd feel more comfortable. And every day, he brings fresh flowers—never the same kind twice."

I turned my head.

On the bedside table, the vase was brimmed with blooming crabapple blossoms—the one flower I hated most.

"Really?" My lips curved in a cold smile. "He loves me that much?"

Oblivious, the nurse pulled out her phone and eagerly showed me a video that had gone viral online.

"Of course! Look—this proves how much he cares! He risked his life to pull you out of the wreckage."

The shaky footage, taken by a bystander at the crash scene, showed Terrence cradling someone from the passenger seat, carrying her out with painstaking care.

Her face was hidden, but her delicate frame was unmistakable.

The comments overflowed with admiration—praising him as a true man, a devoted husband, a lover who cherished his wife above all else.

Yet the woman he rescued so tenderly... wasn't me.

While the internet envied the love I supposedly had, I had been left bleeding and dying inside that car.

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "Yes... he really does love me."

The nurse's smile faltered. She quickly excused herself and slipped out of the room.

Moments later, Terrence entered, carrying yet another fresh bouquet.