My Brother Became a Vegetable To Save Me Novel by NANCY ROWSE

“Someone help!” A pair of hands grabbed Joseph’s, desperately calling for assistance.

More and more people came running, trying to pull him back, but Joseph continued to struggle, still intent on jumping.”

“My love is here, waiting for me. Cathe, my Cathe, I’m coming for you,” he mumbled, fighting harder to break free.NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.

I wanted him to be saved–not out of pity, but out of disgust. The thought of dying in the same place as him made me sick.

Perhaps my wish was granted, for Joseph was pulled back onto the bridge.

But he wouldn’t stop muttering someone’s name, his erratic behavior convincing the onlookers that he was mentally unstable.

Someone recognized him.

Joseph and I had been rising stars in the industry, gaining some fame. The scandal surrounding our wedding had only spread our names further.

“Isn’t that Mr. Miller? Could it be the company’s collapse that drove him to this?”

“He keeps calling for Cathe. Is he talking about Ms. Hall?”

“He’s the one who drove Ms. Hall to her death, and he still has the nerve to call for her? They should just send him to a psych ward already!”

Someone muttered as they dialed a number.

No matter how much Joseph struggled, he was forcibly taken to a psychiatric hospital.

Thanks to the country’s robust healthcare system–and the insurance I had bought for him–he’d be spending the rest of his life confined, endlessly tormented in that institution.

Death would have been too easy for Joseph. After all the wrongs he had done, what right did he have to choose the simplest way out?

No, he needed to live. He needed to live long enough to remember me, to forever atone for his mistakes.

Joseph was strapped to a bed, a large dose of sedatives injected into his system, finally calming him down.

I sat by his side, watching as his lips moved softly, still calling out, “Cathe…“.

END

Book 3: I Had Heart Failure, Yet He Snatched My Heart To His Beloved

My husband’s first love and me both suffered from heart failure and urgently required a transplant.

Yet, without hesitation, my husband chose to abandon me, giving the matching heart to his first love instead.

In my profound despair, I decided to forsake everything and await death in the hospital.

After my passing, he visited my grave, weeping uncontrollably, and lamented, “I regret it, Aimee.”