His Affair, My Glue, Their Screams at 2 AM novel Chapter 8

I pushed the door open, full of concern:

"Babe, what happened?"

Mark's face was twisted with pain beyond recognition.

Blue veins bulged on his forehead.

He frantically scratched at the festering skin, blood dripping all over the bathroom floor.

"Quick! Take me to the hospital!"

He practically shouted.

I pretended to be shocked:

"What's going on? Babe, how did your hemorrhoids move to the front?"

He had no strength to answer me.

He just kept scratching at the wound, trying to alleviate the pain through this.

Until he passed out from the pain.

Only then did I leisurely take out my phone and call for an ambulance.

------

Outside the emergency room.

The doctor solemnly told me.

"The patient's condition is very serious. Tissue necrosis with secondary infection."

"There are two options: conservative treatment, but the infection risk is high and may be life-threatening. Or surgical removal, completely removing the necrotic tissue."

I didn't hesitate for a moment: "Then cut it off."

The doctor clearly hadn't expected me to be so decisive.

"Are you sure? After all, this is... a very important area."

I was resolute, taking the surgical consent form.

Then I signed my name on the paper without hesitation.

When Mark opened his eyes again.

It was the second day after surgery.

The anesthetic effect was slowly wearing off, his eyes still somewhat unfocused.

Until he saw me standing by the bed, his gaze gradually sharpened.

"Honey..."

I tossed divorce papers onto the table.

"Mark, let's divorce. I get custody of the child, and all the property too."

Mark's eyes were bloodshot, his voice hoarse:

"I won't divorce! I'd rather die than divorce!"

He reached out to grab my arm, but I dodged.

His emotions became even more agitated.

"The baby is still so young! How could you let him grow up without a father? I swear, I will never again—"

"I believe that."

I interrupted him, pushing down his raised hand that was in a swearing position.

The glimmer of hope that had just appeared on his face shattered with my next words.

"After all, your ‘weapon' has been confiscated."

Only then did Mark seem to suddenly realize something.

He looked down and lifted the blanket, his gaze falling on his lower body.

His expression shifted from confusion to horror, to despair.

Finally, he let out a soul-crushing howl:

"NO—!"

"This can't be! What did you do to me?!"