All for Her, Nothing Left of Me

The skin at the nape of my neck tightened abruptly, icy anger like countless fine needles stabbing deep into my marrow, coagulating the blood coursing through my body. Daniel Shaw stood in the center of the living room, the sleeves of his tailored suit rolled up to his forearms, the cold, hard lines taut and precise. His jaw clenched so tightly it seemed poised to snap, and the suffocating tension around him felt almost tangible, as if you could wring water from the air. "Melissa Lynn, explain yourself. Just what is going on here?" He flung his hand, the glass ointment tube crashing at my feet with a deafening bang. The shattering noise pierced my eardrums, while white ointment mixed with shards of glass splattered across the floor. I instinctively bent down to pick it up, but before my fingertips could touch the shards, he gripped my wrist so tightly it felt as if he could crush my bones. "Daniel, you're hurting me." I winced in pain and struggled, my eyes darting over his shoulder, only to meet Rachel Shaw standing in the hallway. She wore the pink silk nightgown Daniel had given me for my birthday. Beneath the hem, her calf was wrapped in bloodstained gauze, and her face was as pale as soaked paper. "Daniel, please don't blame Melissa," she said timidly, her voice trembling with sobs. "Maybe... she really didn't mean to." "You say it wasn't intentional?" Daniel Shaw's grip suddenly tightened; the bones in my fingers creaked painfully, darkness blurring my vision. "She's a doctor! You can't tell the difference between an anti-allergy ointment and a counterfeit drug? Rachel contracted this filthy disease—do you seriously think it has nothing to do with you?" The words "filthy disease" slammed against my chest, choking me as blood rushed to my head. "I didn't! That ointment was brought by my friend abroad, every ingredient tested—there's no way it's faulty." Rachel suddenly clutched her lower abdomen and sank to her knees, her face pale to near translucence, cold sweat glistening at her temples. "Daniel, it hurts so badly... Melissa herself said this ointment was safe, that's why I used it every day..." Those words ignited Daniel Shaw's fury completely. He suddenly released me. I staggered back half a step, and before I could regain my footing, a fist slammed hard into my shoulder. "Ah!" A searing pain shot through me. I lost my balance and fell to the ground. My wrist, which I used to brace myself, felt like it was shattered, the pain stabbing deep. "Melissa Lynn, how can you be so cold-hearted?" Daniel looked down on me with contempt, his eyes sharp and icy like shards of glass. "Rachel has grown up with us. Even if she's not your biological sister, you have no right to reject her!" "I didn't..." I curled up in pain, unable to finish my sentence, helplessly watching as he pulled out his cellphone and unlocked it. "Aren't you always pretending to be so virtuous? I'll let everyone see your true face." With a swipe of his finger, the screen lit up with a covert photo of me asleep—my collar undone, hair tangled. "Daniel Shaw, you've lost your mind!" I lunged to grab the cellphone, but he kicked me hard in the side. I crashed back painfully, my insides twisted as if dislocated. "The one who's lost is you." He sneered coldly and hit send. "A woman with a venomous heart doesn't deserve to stand by my side." He just posted those photos on social media like that. The cellphone notifications kept ringing nonstop, each one ripping at my sense of dignity. Those who once envied us must now be pointing and whispering at those photos. I collapsed onto the floor, my stomach churning wildly. Clutching the wall, I stumbled into the bathroom and heaved over the toilet, but nothing came up. Raising my head to the mirror, I saw a woman with a ghostly pale face, her eyes bloodshot with veins crawling beneath, and lips cracked and peeling. I instinctively reached toward my lower abdomen—my period had been delayed by half a month. I might be pregnant. The very thought made my whole body tremble, my fingertips shaking uncontrollably. Leaning against the wall, I stepped out of the bathroom. Even if he hated me with all his heart right now, this was his child, and I had to tell him. But the scene in the living room made me swallow the words back down my throat. Daniel Shaw was carefully helping Rachel Shaw sit down on the sofa, bending over to pour her some warm water, his tone so gentle it felt foreign to me: "Don't be afraid. I've already punished her. She won't bully you anymore." Rachel Shaw looked up, her eyes meeting mine just as a faint smile flickered at the corner of her lips—so swift it felt like a mirage, yet it struck deep into my heart. The cast on my wrist was heavy, dragging my arm down until I could barely lift it. I sat on the balcony's wicker chair, flipping through photos from three years ago on my cellphone. In the pictures, Daniel Shaw wore a white shirt, a piece of gauze taped to his temple, yet he smiled with eyes curved warmly, shielding me behind him. "Melissa, still looking at old photos?" Charles Lynn came over carrying a cup of warm water and set it down beside my hand. "The past is the past—don't keep holding on to it." "Charles, I just can't understand how he ended up like this." I traced the photo with my fingers, my voice hoarse. "People change, especially when blinded by favoritism." Charles sighed, "Do you remember when you two first met? He wasn't like this back then." How could I forget? We met at the hospital. That night, I was working the night shift. It was just past three in the morning when a group of fighters was rushed into the emergency room, their noise sharp enough to give you a headache. Daniel Shaw was among them, unharmed but fiercely protecting a seven- or eight-year-old girl who had been accidentally injured. The child trembled in fear. "Doctor, please look at her!" he pushed the little girl toward me, his brow tightly furrowed, his eyes brimming with urgent anxiety. I crouched to examine the child while he stood nearby, his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "It's just a superficial injury; applying some ointment will suffice." I handed him a disinfectant wipe. "But what about you? You're bleeding from your temple and haven't treated it?" He touched his temple, seeing the blood but showing no concern. "Just a minor scratch, it's nothing." After that, he began coming to the hospital frequently. In the mornings, he would bring me soy milk and fried dough sticks as I finished my night shift; at night, he'd lean against the corridor wall waiting for me to finish, smiling as he said, "Dr. Lynn, shift's over — shall we grab a meal together?" Every time, I nodded with a flushed face, my heart pounding as if it would burst out of my chest. Once, after finishing my night shift, at five in the morning I was cornered in a back alley behind the hospital by a few drunk men. They reeked of alcohol and grabbed my arm without warning. I trembled with fear, struggling desperately, but it was useless. Just as I thought something terrible was about to happen, Daniel Shaw suddenly rushed out, positioned himself in front of me, and took several punches without flinching. "Get lost!" he shouted hoarsely, his usual gentleness completely vanished, replaced only by an overwhelming, fierce hostility. The drunkard was intimidated by him and cursed under his breath as he walked away. I supported him, watching blood trickle from the corner of his mouth while tears spilled uncontrollably: "Are you okay? Does it hurt?" He gently wiped my tears away with the pad of his finger, his touch soft: "Why are you crying? I'm fine." "From now on, I'll pick you up from work every day. I won't let you suffer anymore." He kept his word; no matter the wind or rain, his figure was always standing at the hospital entrance, hands always carrying my favorite snacks. I believed we would journey from tender love all the way to growing old together. Until the engagement banquet six months ago. That day, I wore a custom off-white gown, my makeup meticulously done, clutching the bouquet as I stood at the entrance of the banquet hall, waiting for my fiance. From seven until nine, Daniel Shaw never arrived. Guests whispered among themselves, their eyes on me—some filled with sympathy, some with curiosity, and others with malicious intent. "Melissa, why hasn't Daniel arrived yet? Could he be stuck in traffic?" My mother gripped my hand, her palm slick with sweat. I called Daniel over and over, but no one answered. "Did something happen?" My father frowned. "Shall I send someone to check?" I shook my head, forcing a smile. "It's nothing; he might have had an emergency." But the unease inside me surged like a rising tide. It wasn't until ten o'clock at night that the banquet hall doors finally opened, and Daniel Shaw arrived. He wasn't wearing a tuxedo; his white shirt was stained, the collar undone, looking travel-worn and disheveled. Behind him followed Rachel Shaw, her face pale, supported by him, her steps unsteady. "Daniel, where have you been?" I rushed over and grabbed his arm, my voice trembling, "Today is our engagement banquet—everyone is waiting for you!" He frowned and pushed me aside. "Rachel isn't feeling well. I took her to the hospital. That's why I'm late." "Taking her to the hospital is one thing, but you could've at least called me!" Tears welled in my eyes. "I waited here for three hours like a fool!" Rachel tugged gently at his sleeve, her voice soft as cotton. "Daniel, it's all my fault. Please don't scold Melissa." "If I hadn't been sick, you wouldn't have missed the engagement banquet." "It's none of your business." Daniel Shaw patted her hand, but his eyes turned icy cold as he looked at me. "The engagement banquet doesn't matter; Rachel's health comes first." That night, he stayed by Rachel Shaw's side the entire time, feeding her and shielding her from drinks, leaving me standing alone. I watched their retreating figures and overheard the guests' whispers. For the first time, panic seized my heart — the man I had loved for three years seemed no longer mine. "I should have understood back then that I was already gone from his heart." I put down my cellphone, my voice laced with bitter self-mockery. Charles Lynn patted my shoulder. "It's not your fault. Who could have imagined he would be so infatuated with Rachel Shaw?"