A Wedding That Never Was Chapter 11
After an eleven-hour international flight, Olivia felt as though every ounce of strength had been drained from her body upon landing.
She wheeled herself out of the airport, heading straight for the hotel she had booked in advance.
After checking in, she drew the hotel room curtains tightly shut, blocking out every sliver of light from outside.
The moment she hit the bed, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion crashed over her.
She slept for a full day and night.
She had never slept this long before; back at home, Alexander would always knock on her door at mealtimes to call her to eat.
When she finally woke, the sky outside the window was painted in the pale orange hues of dusk.
Olivia fished the damaged ash charm out of her bag, a sharp pain piercing her chest as her fingertips traced its dented surface.
A tiny bit of her father’s ashes remained inside the charm—the little she had fought desperately to save.
She found a piece of waterproof cloth, wrapped the charm carefully, and wheeled herself to the beach.
The salty sea breeze whipped fine sand against her face as Olivia gazed at the churning ocean, raising her hand to toss the charm into the water.
The tiny object was quickly swallowed by the waves. She opened her mouth, her voice breaking into a ragged sob: “Dad, I’m sorry. I failed you as a daughter; I couldn’t even protect your ashes. You were my role model my entire life. I’ve brought you to see the ocean you loved so much. In your next life, you must live happily.”
Tears smashed against the back of her hand, icy cold.
She looked down at her legs, the skin completely numb, as a dense, suffocating bitterness spread through her heart.
“I hope I can be a little happier, too.”
She whispered softly.
Ever since that surgery, her legs had been like this—the nerves severed, devoid of all sensation.
Countless nights, she had wanted to just give up, feeling that this was probably it for her life, just muddling through and surviving one day at a time.
Wheeling herself back to the hotel, she noticed a makeshift stage set up by the roadside halfway there, its railings wrapped in colorful string lights that gave off a lively vibe.
Driven by a moment of curiosity, Olivia stopped to watch.
Before long, a few young girls bounded onto the stage, wearing vibrant dance skirts and moving freely to the beat.
She watched, utterly entranced, only snapping back to reality when the performance ended and the crowd dispersed.
The girl who had danced in the center walked over to her wheelchair, her eyes curving into a sweet smile: “Miss, do you like dancing?”
Olivia hesitated, her gaze dropping back to her legs: “I used to love it, but now…”
The little girl crouched down, her eyes gentle: “Even though I’ve never seen you dance, I bet it was beautiful. Life is long, so keep your chin up. You’ll stand on a stage again someday.”
Back at the hotel, she stayed awake all night.
As soon as dawn broke, she dug out her phone and booked an appointment with a local orthopedic specialist.
In the consultation room, the specialist examined her scans, his brows furrowed tightly as he shook his head repeatedly: “The damage to your legs was done intentionally. The nerves are completely severed; it’s not going to be easy to repair.”
Olivia’s heart sank. She had known all along that Chloe was behind it, but hearing the doctor confirm it still filled her with despair.
Just as she was about to leave, the doctor handed her a business card: “I can’t cure you, but this friend of mine is an expert in nerve repair. He might be able to help.”
The name on the card, Logan Pendelton, felt like a lifeline, and Olivia clutched it tightly in her hand.
She thanked him, wheeled herself out of the hospital, and headed back to the hotel.
Just as she reached the hotel entrance, she spotted Alexander.
He was crouching by the door, his eyes heavily bloodshot and his frame noticeably thinner, looking utterly wretched and haggard.
Olivia’s heart skipped a beat; she had no idea how he had found this place, but she had absolutely no desire to see him.
She immediately called the hotel front desk, asking them to forward her luggage to the neighboring city, while she hurriedly wheeled herself away.
Upon arriving in the neighboring state, Olivia rented a small apartment. After settling in and resting for two days, she finally mustered the courage to visit the address on the business card.
The friendly receptionist led her all the way to the consultation room: “Dr. Pendelton is stuck in traffic but will be here shortly. Please wait a moment.”
Olivia sat in the consultation room, her gaze landing on the wall of honors. The rows of certificates and thank-you plaques brought a slight sense of relief to her heart.
Just then, a magnetic male voice sounded: “Wasn’t my afternoon patient supposed to be a gentleman?”
The receptionist quickly explained: “This lady has your business card. Didn’t you say that anyone with your card gets priority access?”
Logan nodded. Once the receptionist left, only the two of them remained in the room.
Olivia looked up to study him. She had never seen such a striking man; his features were elegantly refined, and his aura was incredibly gentle.
Catching her gaze, Logan gave a soft chuckle: “Miss, is there something on my face?”
Snapping back to reality, Olivia felt her cheeks flush. She quickly wheeled herself to his desk and handed over the CT scans.
“The damage to your legs was intentionally inflicted.”
Logan studied the scans, his tone calm and entirely unfazed. Without hesitation, he picked up a pen and began drafting a surgical and recovery plan.
A spark of hope ignited in Olivia’s eyes as she asked eagerly: “Can it really be cured?”
Logan handed her a piece of paper filled with penciled instructions in elegant handwriting.
“If you cooperate with the treatment, there is a very good chance.”
Olivia carefully tucked the paper away, thanking him profusely.
Following the surgery, Olivia adhered strictly to Logan’s recovery plan. Over the next six months, her legs miraculously began to improve. Going from complete numbness to feeling the faintest of touches, every tiny bit of progress filled her with overwhelming joy.
She wanted to treat Logan to dinner, but he declined with a smile: “No need for dinner. My birthday is coming up—how about you make me a handmade gift instead?”
Olivia smiled and nodded: “Leave it to me.”
On the day of her final surgery, Olivia lay on the operating table, her palms slick with cold sweat and her heart racing at nearly a hundred and twenty beats per minute.
Logan stepped to her side, his movements gentle as he administered the anesthesia. His tone was incredibly tender: “Relax, I’ve got you. When you wake up, there will only be good news.”
His voice was like a shot of reassurance, and Olivia slowly closed her eyes.
As her consciousness gradually faded, a faint smile lingered on her lips.
