My Fiancé Planned 33 Accidents

That night, Sylvia spiked a high fever. She drifted in a haze for two full days before her consciousness finally cleared.

Victor sat by her bedside. When her eyes opened, he reached out and touched her forehead. "The fever's finally come down a bit."

She stared at the ceiling, unfocused. She did not respond to anything he said.

Not until he added, "Via, don't worry too much. I'll fix your voice. I promise."

Her eyes shifted. She looked at him and tried to speak, but no sound came out. A burning pain tore through her throat.

Panic crossed her face. Victor patted her gently. "The fever was too severe. Your throat was badly inflamed, and your vocal cords were affected. It's a minor procedure. You'll be fine."

His tone was steady and reassuring. Sylvia slowly relaxed.

…

Three days later, Sylvia had a performance scheduled. She took an anesthetic injection and barely managed to sing through the entire set.

The band had not seen her in days and insisted on going out to eat together. She declined and explained that she had surgery the next day.

They were disappointed but did not push. "We can always get together later. There'll be plenty of chances."

"I'm leaving," Sylvia said quietly, looking at them. "My flight's in five days."

The room fell silent.

After a long pause, someone finally spoke. "But Via, isn't your wedding in six days? We all got the invitations."

She lowered her head. "It's not happening. Just pretend you never saw them."

No one spoke after that. Everyone knew how deeply she had loved Victor.

Sylvia forced a smile and lightly punched the person nearest to her. "What's with those faces? People say marriage is a grave. I'm just not jumping in anymore. Why aren't you happy?"

She paused, then added softly, almost too softly to hear, "Don't worry. I won't give up singing. It's all I have left now…"

Only then did they relax.

"Then remember to come back and see us, Via. Don't just disappear on us…"

A hand suddenly closed around her wrist. Victor's low voice sounded at her side. "Where are you going?"

He had come to pick her up.

Sylvia did not answer. After saying goodbye to the band, she got into the car. Only when he asked again did she speak. "I'm leaving the band."

He froze for a moment and steered with one hand. "Why? You don't like it anymore?"

"I don't," she replied flatly.

He did not press further. "The surgery is tomorrow morning. I've arranged everything."

Sylvia assumed he would be the one operating, or at least a senior attending. She did not ask.

Only when she lay on the operating table, anesthetic flowing into her veins, did she realize the surgeon was Rachel. Victor stood beside her as the assistant.

Sylvia cherished her voice above everything else. She would never have entrusted it to an intern.

Terror surged. She tried to sit up, but the anesthetic left her body limp. Her voice came out broken and breathy. "Change… the surgeon… Not her… Victor… you do it…"

Victor stroked her cheek gently. "Be good. Rach needs hands-on experience for her thesis. Her grades are the best. Don't worry. Go to sleep. It'll be over when you wake up."

As his words faded, her consciousness slipped away.

…

When Sylvia woke again, she was back in the ward.

After a few blank seconds, the memories before the surgery rushed back. She opened her mouth to speak. Only shattered, rasping fragments escaped, like air leaking from a broken bellows.

She pressed a hand to her throat and tried again.

Nothing changed.

Her eyes reddened with panic.

The door opened.

Victor walked in, with Rachel close behind him.

Sylvia looked at him desperately and pointed at her throat.

Victor avoided her gaze for a moment before he spoke. "There were some complications during the surgery. But don't worry. I'll fix your voice."

Her eyes widened, while her body went rigid, as if struck by lightning.

A complication? If it were truly minor, why did he look like this?

Her gaze met Rachel's by chance. Behind Victor, Rachel looked back at her with open provocation and triumph.

Disbelief flashed through Sylvia. Before the photo incident, she had suspected Rachel, but she had never imagined someone would go so far as to orchestrate everything personally.

Now she understood. Because of her, her mother was dead. Because of her, her voice was ruined.

Rage exploded. Sylvia grabbed a decoration from the bedside and hurled it.

Victor frowned and stepped sideways, pulling Rachel into his arms to shield her. "Sylvia! Have you lost your mind?!"

Sylvia's fists clenched until they trembled. She glared at Rachel, hatred blazing in her eyes. "She… did it… on purpose."

Victor's frown deepened. His voice turned cold. "All surgeries carry risks. What does that have to do with her? Don't start hurting people just because things didn't go your way."

Sylvia froze. Slowly, she looked at him. Impatience filled his expression, as though she were simply being unreasonable.

She lowered her head and let out a quiet, hollow laugh.

How could she forget? Without Victor's blind faith, what power would Rachel truly have?

…

In the days that followed, Sylvia did not say a single word.

Victor came to see her every day and repeated his promises to cure her voice. She never once looked at him.

On the fourth night, a message arrived from Victor's father. It contained flight details and a transfer of money.

George: [Via, take this money and live well with your mother.]

She had never told him about her mother's death. She had not wanted him to worry.

She replied with a single word: [Okay.]

Just after she saved the message, Victor spoke from the sofa. "Via, I have something to deal with tonight. I won't be staying. The surgery is scheduled for after the wedding. We'll do it then."

She did not lift her head.

Ten minutes later, Rachel posted a photo of fireworks in the night sky. Victor stood beside her, watching her with a gentle expression.

Sylvia's hand trembled. She opened Rachel's profile and pressed Delete.

…

The next day, the endless rain finally stopped. Sunlight broke through the clouds.

When Sylvia reached the front of the hospital, she snapped her SIM card in half and dropped it into a trash bin. Then she stepped into the light alone and walked toward a brand-new life, one without Victor.