The Wife Who Jumped on New Year's Eve

Chapter 37

Ryan Bennett's eyes suddenly reddened.

The medical report tucked safely in his bag now felt scorching to the touch.

His mind flashed back to three days prior.

In the sterile hospital hallway, he clutched the diagnosis in his trembling hands—the words "gastric cancer" glaring back at him.

His fingers shook uncontrollably as the doctor's voice echoed in his ears:

"Chronic alcohol abuse, sleep deprivation, compounded by emotional stress... The disease has progressed to an advanced stage."

How could this happen?

A surge of bitterness rose in Ryan's chest.

He was only thirty. Life had barely begun. How could he already be handed a death sentence?

And Joanna... He hadn't even won her back yet.

Memories of their past together flooded his mind.

Late-night business dinners, endless socializing—Joanna Taylor would always prepare nourishing soups to soothe his exhaustion.

Through scorching summers and freezing winters, her care never wavered.

Every time he stumbled home drunk, she'd fret over him, bringing hangover remedies and warm millet porridge to ease his stomach.

His chronic gastritis meant strict dietary restrictions—Joanna memorized every forbidden item, ensuring they never appeared on their dining table.

A sharp, needle-like pain pierced his heart, as if countless thorns had lodged deep, tearing through flesh when pulled free.

Then he thought of his daughter—his precious Lily, who had cried for him on so many sleepless nights.

Lily would blink her big, dewy eyes and say:

"Daddy, you have to be good, okay? You have to live a long, long time. When I grow up, I'll take care of you."

"Daddy, stay healthy. Stay with me until I'm all grown up."

Ryan's face drained of color.

If his life was truly nearing its end, his only wish was to have Joanna and Lily back by his side.

Joanna watched Ryan standing there, frozen—and felt nothing.

This man was calculating, ruthless, willing to do anything.

Ryan's gaze locked onto Joanna and Sean Yates' intertwined hands, his eyes darkening.

With one last lingering look, he turned and got into his car.

A voice hissed in his mind:

"It's all because of Sean. Without him, Joanna would come back to you."

"Sean is nothing but a vulture, stealing your wife, taking the woman you love."

Ryan's vision tinted red, blood roaring in his ears. His grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles white.

"Sean should die."

He slammed the accelerator. Tires screeched, tearing through the silence as the car lurched forward—straight toward Sean.

Sean's eyes widened, but it was too late to dodge.

At the last second, a flicker of hesitation crossed Ryan's mind—yet his foot remained pressed down.

The shriek of brakes split the air. Time seemed to freeze.

He saw Joanna throw herself in front of Sean in terror—while Sean desperately tried to shove her away.

As the car halted, Joanna collapsed to the ground, trembling.

Ryan stepped out, anguish spilling from his eyes.

"Why?"

Joanna gasped for breath, her hatred burning through him.

"Ryan, even if I die—I won't let you hurt Sean."

Sean shielded her protectively.

"Ryan, have you lost your mind? Joanna was right there—you could've killed her!"

Ryan stood motionless, staring at them.

They were whole. They were in love. No one could come between them.

In that moment, he finally understood—he had lost Joanna forever.

Long after they left, Ryan remained rooted in place.

A cold wind swept past, triggering a coughing fit. A trickle of blood escaped his lips.

Slowly, he sank to his knees, clutching his head.

A single tear fell onto the soil—blossoming into nothing.