My Wife Forced Me to Give Her First Love a Blood Transfusion

I curled up on the hospital bed, feeling hopeless.

But before I had time to grieve, Isabella's assistant, Zack, came with an urn in his hand.

He looked at me with pity in his eyes, saying, "This is your grandmother's urn. All the ashes have been put in it. Mr. Wilson, please take a look."

My dull eyes regained clarity, and I held the urn as if it were a treasure.

Zack hesitated for a long time and stammered, "Ms. Johnson decided on the sterilization for your health. As for the ashes, she wasn't aware of that before. You're still very important to her."

I wanted to laugh, but my cracked lips were so painful that even the slightest pull was unbearable.

"So what? She didn't let go of either the ashes or me."

Zack moved his lips but didn't say anything in the end. He just gave me a business card for a cemetery, saying that the plot had already been purchased and the burial could proceed directly.

I didn't want to go, but I didn't have the money to buy a grave for my grandmother.

I dragged my exhausted body to the cemetery, carrying Grandma's urn and burying it with my hands.

At the cemetery, just as I was about to leave after sitting there for a while, I saw Isabella and Herman again.

"Zack said that this cemetery was reserved by Noah. It would be bad if we just occupied it."

Isabella didn't answer, as she had already seen me.

"Noah..."

I didn't respond, but instead, I turned and walked in the opposite direction.

But Isabella came up a few steps and grabbed me.

"Why are you hiding from me?"

I shook her hand off fiercely and walked forward with a cold face.

I was afraid I might lose control at Grandma's gravesite and even make the grave mistake of committing murder.

Isabella pressed her lips, looking confused and impatient.

I knew she was angry. I was too familiar with her. Whenever Isabella had that expression before, I would be so afraid that I'd take all the blame upon myself and be humbly obedient.

I used to love her.

But now, it was gone.

Her emotions had nothing to do with me anymore.

"Get out of my way." I insisted on leaving with a cold face.

Isabella finally showed a hint of panic. She had a strong feeling that after I left this time, I would never come back.

She tried to make small talk.

"We haven't been in touch for so many days. How is your grandma?"

I looked at her in disbelief.

All these days, if she had just listened to even one thing I said or made a call to the hospital to confirm, she wouldn't have been saying something so foolish and ridiculous.

But she didn't. As usual, she did whatever she wanted, carelessly and comfortably shifting all the blame onto me.

I looked at her with a sneer.

"Grandma? Over there."

I pointed at the cemetery and looked at her sarcastically.

Isabella's brows were tightly furrowed, her hands clenched but soon relaxing as she found her footing.

"Impossible. Noah, are you trying to deceive me again?"

I closed my eyes and laughed at myself.

Isabella was obsessively arrogant. She would instinctively ignore any answer she didn't want to hear. As the richest person, how could she possibly be wrong?

I wanted to show her the death certificate and the cemetery registration.

But my body was so weak that simply standing had exhausted all my strength.

My head was spinning. After countless blood transfusions over the past five years, my body was reduced to a mere skeleton holding up my skin, with all the blood, flesh, and vitality drained away.

I squatted down and sat on the ground slowly.

Chest pain, fatigue, and cold sweats were all typical sequelae of blood transfusion.

After the sterilization and immediate blood transfusion, with no time to rest, I hurried to bury my grandmother's ashes. The suppressed emotions and exhausted body were stressing my heart, causing it to beat abnormally fast. For a few seconds, I felt like I was on the brink of death.

Isabella looked at me for a long time, and her mouth parted a few times, but she didn't ask any questions.

Leaning against the tombstone, the gentle breeze on my face brought a fleeting memory of my first encounter with Isabella.

She was the richest woman dressed in a well-tailored suit and surrounded by people, while I was an ordinary college student busy with graduation and job hunting.

The difference between us was like the gap between heaven and earth. If it weren't for Herman's illness, we would have never crossed paths.

Yet, Isabella said she liked me. I wasn't naive and didn't believe that such clichéd stories would happen to someone like me.

She specifically invited me to join the company, brought me gifts, prepared costly homemade lunches, broadened my horizons, and even reprimanded partners who made humiliating comments about me at the dinner table.

I inevitably fell more deeply. At that time, I wondered what someone like Isabella could gain from an ordinary person like me. Could it be that she even wanted my life?

Yes, she wanted my blood and my life. She smashed my grandmother's ashes and personally gave the order to have me sterilized.

Since becoming Herman's blood donor, I developed a severe case of drowsiness. Sometimes, I would sleep for an entire day, waking up feeling disoriented and confused.

I fell asleep again, and when I woke up, I witnessed a scene that sent a chill all over my body.

My grandmother's grave had been dug up, and workers were putting the urn in Herman's hand into the pit and filling it with soil while my grandmother's urn was casually discarded to the side.