I'm Welcoming My Second Marriage

Evelyn’s eyelashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes. For a moment, her blurry gaze locked with Christopher’s before he quietly withdrew his hand.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and rough, heavy with fatigue. “My Aunt made porridge. Get up and have some later.”

He looked exhausted, his features worn, as if he hadn’t rested properly in days.

As her awareness sharpened, so did the pain. It radiated from her legs, sharp and relentless, but Evelyn endured it. Her voice was soft, almost fragile, as she asked, “If one day I’m gone... will you marry Charlotte?”

Christopher froze, his gaze darkening as he stared at her. His tone turned firm, laced with a controlling edge. “Where are you planning to go?”

Evelyn didn’t answer directly. Instead, she repeated her question, her voice quieter this time. “I mean, if I leave... will you marry her?”

“There’s no such possibility.”

His response was quick, almost impatient. He adjusted her blanket with a hint of annoyance, his eyes narrowing. “As long as you behave and stop throwing these tantrums, I’ll love you just as much as I always have.”

Evelyn gave him a faint smile, one filled with a quiet resignation. She could feel the cold liquid from the IV drip seeping into her veins, mending her broken body piece by piece. Her voice was soft, tinged with helplessness.

“But Christopher... I’ve never changed.”

***

Evelyn spent the next month confined to her bed.

Some days she scrolled through her phone, other days she lost herself in books. Often, though, she just lay there staring blankly at the ceiling, her thoughts a jumble of tangled memories and emotions.

Charlotte came by daily, her presence like a bitter wind. Sometimes she would sneer, throwing taunts in Evelyn’s direction, but Evelyn never responded. Her silence seemed to frustrate Charlotte, as if she were punching air.

Eventually, Charlotte stopped trying to provoke her. Instead, she focused her energy on something else—planning Christopher’s wedding.

Staring at the wedding photos of Evelyn and Christopher, Charlotte’s jealousy burned like an uncontrollable flame. Those pictures should have been hers. Christopher should have been hers. The thought of them walking down the aisle together, holding hands, kissing, sharing a bed—it was unbearable.

Sitting on her sofa, Charlotte clenched her fists tightly. This wedding cannot happen.

Something had to be done.

***

An hour later, Charlotte appeared at Evelyn’s house with a glass of water in her hand.

Evelyn was reading a book, her body curled up quietly on the bed. Her slender fingers gently turned the pages, her gaze calm and serene.

“Here,” Charlotte said, her voice trembling as she held out the glass. “Drink some water.”

Evelyn glanced up at her, her eyes drifting to the glass. She noticed the slight tremor in Charlotte’s hand, the pale hue of her face, the nervous waver in her tone. It didn’t take much for Evelyn to realize there was something wrong with the water.

But instead of calling her out, Evelyn asked softly, “You’re having surgery tomorrow, right? Are you nervous?”

Charlotte gripped the glass tighter, her throat tightening. She opened her mouth to answer, but Evelyn spoke again, her voice calm yet carrying an unsettling weight.

“If I drink this water and something happens to me... you won’t live long either.” Evelyn’s eyes met hers, unwavering. “Are you sure you want me to drink it?”

Charlotte froze, her brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Evelyn’s lips curled into a faint smile. She gestured toward her chest, her tone light yet cutting.

“Someone needs a heart transplant. Yours, to be exact. And it just so happens I don’t want to live anymore. I signed the papers for the donation.” Her voice dropped, chillingly casual. “The heart you’ll be receiving tomorrow is mine.”

Charlotte’s grip on the glass faltered and with a loud clang, it shattered on the floor. She stared at Evelyn, her face draining of color. “What... what are you talking about? Your heart? Are you saying... you signed the contract?”

Evelyn calmly reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out a document. She handed it to Charlotte, her expression unchanging.

“To be honest, I didn’t know the recipient was you when I signed it. The doctor wanted to keep it confidential. If I had known, I never would have agreed.”

Charlotte’s hands trembled as she scanned the paper. Her voice cracked. “You’re lying. You’re lying to me! Why would you give me your heart?!”

Evelyn’s smile deepened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Why would I lie? It’s the truth. You wanted to take my life away... and now, I’m giving it to you. How poetic.”

Charlotte stared at the paper in disbelief, her chest tightening with dread.