I felt a bone-deep chill spreading through my limbs. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness completely. 

When I woke up again, the surgery was over. I was lying in a lavish VIP hospital room. 

The empty space where my legs used to be and the excruciating pain reminded me that none of this was a dream. 

It turned out that the six-year relationship I had with him was nothing but a lie from the start. 

I was unable to hold back and broke down in tears. 

Just then, Luke rushed in. He looked panicked as he grabbed my hand. His face was filled with concern, and there was clear distress in his eyes. 

“The doctor said the injuries to your legs were too severe, so they had to amputate them. But don’t worry, I’ll be your crutch for the rest of your life. I’ll take care of you forever.” 

The sorrow in Luke’s eyes seemed genuine, but all I could feel was disgust. 

I turned my face away. Clinging to the last sliver of hope, I asked, “Where’s my mother? I want to see her.” 

A flicker of guilt flashed across his face. He lowered his head and gently kissed my forehead, then said, “She’s in critical condition. She’s still in the ICU.” 

I clutched his shirt tightly and pleaded, “Take me to see her, please?” 

I wanted to at least see my mother one more time—just to say goodbye. 

Luke frowned, then forcefully tucked my hand back under the blanket. His tone left no room for argument as he said, “Don’t worry and just rest, okay? You’re not in any condition to move. We’ll see her another time.”