My Husband Married the Girl He Saved from the Fire

Elias' eyes flickered with surprise and embarrassment, but he quickly composed himself. “Mira? Are you working overtime again?”

Before she could respond, he hurriedly added, “I just got back from the neighboring city and happened to run into Vera. It started snowing, so I thought I’d walk her home.”

Mira noticed his wet hair, her gaze sharp. “Why is your hair all wet?” she asked, her eyes subtly shifting to Vera.

Vera flinched, quickly averting her gaze.

“Oh, I just took a shower at the dorm,” Elias explained with a forced smile. “I was worried I’d come back too late and disturb your rest. Mira, let’s go home.”

Mira opened her mouth to reply, but a sudden sharp pain pierced her head. Before she could react, her vision blurred, and she collapsed.

When she regained consciousness, the first thing she heard was Elias' anxious voice.

“Doctor, what’s wrong with my wife?”

His voice was strained, and his hands trembled with concern.

Mira slowly opened her eyes, finding the doctor handing a piece of paper to Elias. The man’s gaze fixed on the document, his expression darkening.

Mira’s heart squeezed. It’s over. He’s going to find out about the tumor.

The thought struck her like a cold wave. She couldn’t let him know.

“The situation is not serious,” the doctor reassured, “Her hemoglobin is low, and there are signs of anemia. She probably fainted from exhaustion. Just ensure she gets plenty of rest.”

Elias' tense posture visibly relaxed. “Thank you, doctor.”

Mira blinked, confused. Could it be just a simple check-up?

“Mira, you’re awake.” Elias sat beside her, his face full of concern. “When you fainted, I was terrified. Do you know how scared I was?”

Mira, still feeling the weight of the moment, suppressed a bitter laugh. Terrified? she thought bitterly. Outwardly, she forced a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing. I’ve just been working overtime too much lately.”

Elias sighed lightly, his expression softening. “I’ll go pay the bill. Are you hungry? I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“McDonald’s,” Mira replied flatly.

Mira felt a wave of disgust wash over her. She didn’t want to see Elias at all now; all she wanted was for him to vanish from her life, to disappear from her sight.

"Okay," Elias said softly, rising from his seat. Just as he reached the door, he stopped, turned back, and kissed her forehead gently.

The ward fell into silence. But it wasn’t long before the door creaked open again.

Vera stepped inside, her presence as cold as the air outside. Mira met her gaze, her expression unreadable.

"Mira, you know everything, don't you?" Vera walked toward her, each step deliberate, measured. "I don't mean to steal your husband. I just want to live without regrets. After the wedding, I’ll return Elias to you."

Mira’s lips curled into a bitter smile. Return him? She didn’t want him. Not now, not ever. Dirty men...

Vera continued, oblivious to the bitterness in Mira’s heart. "And... Mira, why are you sick?" She pulled out a CT scan report, her voice quiet but penetrating. "It’s a brain tumor."

Mira’s heart tightened at the words. She frowned.

"I’m guessing you don’t want Elias to know. So, I asked a family doctor to help keep it a secret. But when you’re ready, you can tell him," Vera said, her tone almost too thoughtful.

Mira couldn’t help but smile, a cold, detached smile. "There’s a brown envelope in my bag. Give it to Elias and ask him to sign it."

Vera immediately found the envelope, her eyes widening when she saw the contents.

"You’d better not let him know this is a divorce agreement," Mira said, her voice sharp. "Otherwise, your wedding may not happen as planned."

Vera’s smile remained, but it shifted into something smug, self-assured. "Mira, I didn’t mean to take your husband. But Elias fell in love with me. He’s a light in my dark life. Thank you for your help."

She tucked the envelope under her arm and headed for the door. But before she left, she turned back with a sly smile.

"He likes it with me, you know," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "He tossed and turned all night, wouldn't let me go. No matter how much I begged, it was useless. He said you were like a piece of wood in bed—no passion."