Chapter 2

“Oh, Evelyn, this is wonderful! You finally got your heart transplant!”

“I’m really so happy to see Evelyn healthy again.”

Dad held a food container in his hand and smiled as he offered it.

“Knowing you’re having surgery soon, your mother specifically went to the market to buy the freshest chicken and slow-cooked it all day into a rich broth.”

“Eat it quickly to regain your strength. The surgery won't be so hard then.”

My body stiffened. For a moment, I didn't know what expression to make.

Since I was brought back to the George family, my parents had always been indifferent towards me. This was the first time Mom had personally made a meal just for me.

I lowered my eyes, looking at the chicken broth, but didn't reach for it.

Dad didn’t seem to mind. He placed the soup on the cabinet and spoke gently.

“Evelyn, I know you didn’t grow up with us and feel a bit distant, but for such a major surgery like a heart transplant, why did you ask the doctor to keep it from us?”

I clenched my hands, knowing I hadn't managed to hide it from them after all.

Noah stepped forward, gently uncurled my hand, and rubbed it.

“Why do you still like to dig your nails into your palm when you’re nervous? I’m your husband, of course, I have the duty to sign your surgical consent form. You don’t have to worry about troubling me.”

Looking at their three equally gentle smiling faces, I found it hard to breathe. I couldn’t help but retort sarcastically.

“You’re all busy looking after Chloe. This little thing doesn’t need to be brought to your attention.”

Their smiles faltered slightly. Then, Noah sighed and gently ruffled my hair.

“You’re still mad at us for not visiting you in the hospital because we were taking care of Chloe, aren't you?”

“It was our oversight. We were wrong. We’ll definitely change.”

He picked up the bowl of soup, blew on it to cool it, and brought it to my lips.

“This is my earnest effort. It won’t taste good if it gets cold. Let me feed you.”

The surgery was still fifteen hours away. Even if I drank this bowl of soup now, it wouldn’t affect my transplant tomorrow. They must have known that.

My heart fluttered slightly. I couldn’t help but wonder if my parents were truly seeing me again.

I opened my mouth, then closed it, pushing the bowl away.

“Mom, thank you for your kindness, but I don’t have an appetite right now. Just leave it here for a bit.”

“Bang!”

As soon as the words left my lips, a small figure kicked open the door. My son, Ethan, burst in like a little cannonball, crying as he spoke to my mother, Eleanor.

“Grandma, what do we do? Mom won’t drink the soup, so Chloe can’t get the heart transplant!”

“I don’t want Chloe to hurt! Make Mom give the heart to Chloe!”

“What?”

I stared in shock at the bowl of soup, then snatched the thermos from Dad’s hand, stirring frantically.

A small blue capsule floated up. I recognized it.

It was my long-term anticoagulant medication. But days ago, when the doctor informed me there was a high possibility of a donor heart, I had stopped taking it.

All to seize every chance for a heart transplant.

If I took this medication before surgery, I might not survive the operation due to a clotting disorder. And the doctors, after comprehensive consideration, would abandon my transplant.