My Husband Stole My Kidney,Then Died for the Girl Who Was Me

And now, for the sake of another woman, he was going to carve out my kidney with his own hands.

I looked at Benedict, my voice calm.

"Could I meet this kind stranger? She's saving my life, after all. I'd like to thank her properly."

Benedict had a reputation in our circles—the devoted husband, the one-woman man.

Young, successful, handsome. Women threw themselves at him constantly. Even the hospital director's daughter had made her interest painfully clear, publicly declaring that if Benedict wanted her, the entire hospital could bear his name.

But he never wavered. He'd nearly gotten himself blacklisted from the medical community for turning her down.

And through it all, he'd held my hands and said: "I could lose everything else in this world. But never you."

So what kind of woman could make a man like that—a man who treated loyalty like religion—change?

Benedict hesitated for just a moment before smiling.

"She left the hospital right after signing the donation consent forms. After your surgery tomorrow, I'll take you to thank her properly."

He didn't want me to see her. That much was obvious.

Which only made me more curious.

I didn't push. Just nodded obediently.

"Alright. Whatever you say." I let out a small sigh. "I'm tired. I think I'll head home."

Benedict's shoulders relaxed.

"I'll drive you."

I shook my head, managing a weak smile.

"No need. The surgery's tomorrow—you must have so much to prepare. Focus on that. I'll just grab a cab."

Something softened in his eyes.

"Fern," he said quietly, "marrying someone as understanding as you is the greatest blessing of my life."

If I hadn't seen that post.

If that college girl didn't exist.

Maybe I really would have been moved by the sincerity in his gaze.

But now, meeting those eyes so full of love—

All I felt was the bitter taste of irony.

So love really could be faked.

I said nothing. Just turned and walked away.

But I didn't go far.

I slipped into a café on the ground floor of the hospital, ordered a coffee, and waited.

A few minutes later, Benedict emerged from the building, his white coat gone, walking quickly toward the street.

I set down my cup and followed.

He looked happy. Thrilled, even. He was on his phone, practically bouncing as he walked, clearly sharing good news with whoever was on the other end.

I trailed him to an upscale residential complex near the hospital.

The moment he reached one of the buildings, a girl came flying down the stairs and threw herself into his arms.

When I saw her face, my eyes went wide.

Her?

I'd been trying to understand how Benedict—who supposedly loved me enough to die for me—could suddenly be keeping a mistress.

Now I knew why.

My breath caught. Everything clicked into place.

That's why he'd gone to such lengths to get me to donate my kidney to her.

I couldn't watch them anymore—couldn't stand seeing them wrapped around each other like that.

I fled.

Back home, I collapsed onto the couch, unable to calm down.

Her face kept flashing before my eyes.

This was worse than I'd imagined. So much worse.

My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and made call after call.

Half an hour later, my parents, my mother-in-law, and my sister-in-law all came rushing through my door.