The Villainess Needs a Hug (Ivy Windsor) novel Chapter 838

He was still so young, just thirty. Why was fate so cruel? He had dedicated his life to his work, saving countless lives and families. He had a clear conscience and considered himself a good person. Why did bad things happen to good people?

These questions had been haunting him all afternoon. What troubled him even more was how he would tell Ivy and his family about the cancer diagnosis, or if he should tell them at all.

To Jamison, if he truly had cancer, the one who would suffer the most wasn't him, but Ivy. She had already endured so much—betrayed and abandoned by her family, sold into a nightmare. Just as she was finally free from the pain they had caused her, she would have to face the devastating news of her beloved husband’s illness.

Jamison was filled with regret. If he had known he was destined for a short life, he would have never gotten involved with Ivy. To have something precious and then lose it was far more painful than never having had it at all.

“Hey, some of these indicators have arrows pointing up and down. What does that mean? Is it serious?” Ivy’s voice pulled Jamison back from his dark thoughts.

He glanced at the page she was looking at. “Those are nothing to worry about,” he said calmly. “They can fluctuate due to minor inflammation or lack of rest.”

“Oh,” Ivy nodded, accepting his explanation. “That’s why I keep telling you to take it easy at night. Get some sleep; it’s good for you.”

“I will. I’ll try to rest more from now on.”

As he spoke, his mind drifted again. He had discussed his case with the senior professors in hepatobiliary surgery. There was no single cause for liver cancer. It could be fatigue, lack of sleep, radiation exposure in the operating room, or even a random fungal or viral infection. Genetic mutations were often random events, triggered by any number of factors.

The only silver lining was that they had caught it early.

At that thought, he felt a silent wave of gratitude for his wife. If it hadn't been for her strange insistence on him getting a physical, he might not have discovered it until it was too late. With the rapid progression of liver cancer, even a month’s delay could have been disastrous.

In its early stages, the disease was treatable, with a high chance of a cure. But he knew that once a body had developed cancer, it meant the underlying environment was compromised. Even if he could be cured this time, there was always a risk of recurrence.

The more he thought about it, the heavier his heart became. He stopped at a red light and turned to look at his wife, who was still poring over the report. He reached over, took it from her, and tossed it into the back seat.

“Hey, I wasn't finished—”

“Stop looking at it. Talk to me,” he said, taking her hand.

Ivy frowned. “Talk about what?”

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