Susan’s parents froze, their faces draining of color.
Margareth’s lips quivered as she stammered, "Eddie, you’re a doctor. How could you… how could you injure yourself like this? You’re not… faking it, are you? Did you just smear some fake blood to avoid responsibility?"
Her suspicion was understandable. After all, the hospital strictly forbade doctors from operating on immediate family members.
And my position at the provincial hospital had been hard-won after years of relentless effort.
In response, I calmly extended my wrist toward her.
The deep, raw gash was unmistakably real, the wound splitting flesh to reveal the bone beneath.
Margareth leaned in closer. Her face twisted in anguish as she let out a heart-wrenching wail.
"You—you really can’t operate now… What’s going to happen to Susan?"
Her voice broke and tears streamed down her face.
"My daughter… my poor daughter! She carried your child for ten months and now you’re just going to let her die?!"
She collapsed further, pounding her fists against the ground as she sobbed uncontrollably.
Her despair was so raw that even passersby stopped to watch, their faces filled with pity and sorrow.
But I merely smiled, my tone indifferent.