"Regina, don’t worry. Evelyn still has plenty of skin. If one surgery isn't enough, we’ll try again."
The doctor quickly stopped him and said grimly, "Mr. Purnell, that’s not possible. Doing another transplant could damage your wife’s arm permanently. She might never be able to use it normally again, let alone play the piano."
But Michael didn’t even hesitate. He pushed me forward.
"It’s fine if she can’t play anymore. Regina can take her place as the lead musician in the orchestra. Evelyn can just stay at home to wash clothes, cook and live comfortably. I’ll take care of her for the rest of her life."
I couldn’t speak. My whole body was shaking.
To make sure the surgery would be successful, Michael told the doctors not to use anesthesia on me. I felt every slice of the scalpel, every pull of the skin. The pain was so intense I nearly passed out.
As I was lying there sweating and in agony, Michael patted my shoulder like he was doing me a favor.
"I owe you for this. When everything calms down, I’ll come home more often to keep you company."
From behind him, Regina snorted unhappily.