I Married My Ex-Husband’s Uncle While He Was Comatose

The lab lights were cold and harsh, casting a sterile glow across the spotless counters. The air was thick with the sharp scent of disinfectant and chemicals.

I kept my head down, reviewing data while expertly prepping the instrument for the re-inspection.

Behind me, a soft giggle broke the silence.

“Brother Arthur, what’s this? It looks so magical...” Loren’s syrupy voice floated through the room.

From the corner of my eye, I saw her pressing close—her chest nearly brushing Arthur’s arm, her delicate face tilted up with feigned innocence.

Arthur leaned slightly away, putting a hand’s width of space between them. “You can look,” he said with a small cough, “but don’t touch.”

But his ears were flushed red. Even his breathing quickened.

I inserted the final reagent into the centrifuge and said flatly, “This is a lab, not a date spot. Could you two take this somewhere else?”

Loren pouted. “Sister, are you mad again?”

Before I could answer, a sharp alarm pierced the air—Beep!

I turned just in time to see the culture dish wobble precariously. Loren had nudged the workstation, and a line of liquid now oozed out, giving off a foul, acrid stench that spread instantly.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” I asked, jaw clenched.

“I-I just wanted a better look,” she stammered, snatching her hand back and turning to Arthur, eyes glistening. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry…”

“Get out!” I snapped, retrieving a fresh pair of gloves and the cleaning kit from the disinfectant cabinet. “This is a laboratory, not your stage performance!”

Arthur finally moved, stepping in to check the control panel and stability readings. He exhaled in relief. “It’s okay. Nothing’s broken. Just—don’t touch anything again. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

I glared at him. “Oh, so now you remember this is a lab?”

He looked guilty. “I didn’t notice—”

“Of course you didn’t,” I cut in coldly, sarcasm curling around every word. “You were far too busy playing knight-in-shining-armor.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he backed up half a step. “Lora, watch your tone—and your identity.”

Identity?

I laughed bitterly. “Give it a few days. Once I’m gone, you won’t need to worry about mine anymore.”

Before he could respond, a sharp scream shattered the air.

“Ahhh!”

It was Loren.

Corrosive waste had erupted from one of the backup pipes. The stench was suffocating, the liquid bubbling on the floor.

“Loren! Get away from there!” Arthur shouted. His expression twisted in panic as he lunged forward, shielding Loren with his entire body.

“Don’t move,” he said hoarsely, clutching her close. “Be careful!”

Loren trembled, eyes wide. She turned and, in her panic, slammed the emergency safety door shut—locking me inside.

I froze.

The searing liquid splashed onto my back, and agony tore through me like wildfire. The burning sensation stole the air from my lungs, and the chemical fumes curled into my nose and throat like invisible claws.

I bit down hard on my lip, trying to stay conscious. But my legs buckled. My vision blurred.

The last thing I saw was Arthur holding Loren in his arms—like she was the most fragile, precious thing in the world.

And me?

Left behind.

---

The pain pulled me back to consciousness like a hook in the chest. Every breath was laced with fire.

I turned my head with effort—and froze.

Loren was curled on the bedside, sobbing into Arthur’s chest.

“You’re my sister’s husband... you treat me so well... I-I shouldn't have...”

Her voice cracked.

“I didn’t mean to close the door. I was scared... I didn’t know what to do…”

Her trembling hands clutched at his sleeves like lifelines.

Arthur brushed her tears away gently, his touch feather-light. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered. “The equipment’s old. Accidents happen.”

“She’ll be okay, right?” Loren’s voice was barely audible.

He stroked her cheek tenderly. “Even if I had to choose again a hundred times… I’d still protect you first.”

“Why?” Loren lifted her tear-streaked face.

Arthur gazed at her, his voice low and fervent. “Because I like—”