Three years we dated, three years married. Then, my husband Ethan ditched me on the side of the road to rush off to his depressed old flame, Sophia. Before I could even process it, a speeding car hit me, sending me flying. Skull fractured, clinging to life, he refused to operate on me himself. "She's not going to make it. Don't worry about protocols, I'm her husband, I can sign the DNR." When I miraculously survived the emergency surgery performed by someone else, he stood there, arm draped impatiently around a pregnant Sophia, sneering at me. "Funny, you couldn't get pregnant in three years with me. Maybe a hen that can't lay eggs should see a doctor." But I just leaned back into the arms of a real man, the one who actually saved me, and slapped proof of his infertility right across Ethan's arrogant face. My mom was undergoing emergency heart surgery. It was critical. I kept urging my husband, Ethan, to drive faster. "Please, Ethan, hurry!" We were still thirty minutes from the hospital when Ethan slammed on the brakes, pulling over sharply. My heart hammered against my ribs. "Nina," he said, his voice tight with urgency, "Sophia's threatening to cut her wrists again. Her depression... I have to go, right now." Before I could even form a word, he grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the car. "Are you seriously going to make a scene now?" he snapped. "This is life or death! Stop being so damn jealous!" He didn't stop there. "Besides, your mom is always in and out of the hospital. She'll be fine this time, she's not going to die!" I stumbled, falling hard onto the asphalt. My ankle twisted, landing squarely on a sharp piece of gravel. Blood instantly soaked through my jeans. Tears sprang to my eyes from the searing pain. I turned to look for Ethan. But he was already gone. The car peeled away, leaving me behind without a second glance. Helpless, I pushed myself up from the cold, hard ground, sticky blood painting my pant leg red. The wind cut through me, making me shiver violently, my teeth chattering. The chill seeped deep into my bones. As I tried to steady myself, I saw headlights bearing down on me. On this deserted stretch of road? How could there be a car driving so recklessly fast? My heart pounded like a drum. There was no time to react. I was hit. Hard. 2: He Wouldn't Save Me The sharp, stinging smell of antiseptic filled my nose. When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed. Some kind stranger must have found me and called an ambulance. Relief washed over me when I realized Ethan worked here. He was the star surgeon, the best. Surely, I was safe now. "Dr. Hayes," a nurse said urgently, "this patient has severe head trauma. We need to operate immediately to prevent fatal intracranial bleeding." Ethan waved a dismissive hand, his face a mask of annoyance. He did a cursory check with his instruments, then delivered his verdict. "She's not going to make it. The damage is too extensive. There's nothing we can do." Perhaps sensing the shock in the room, he added coldly, "I'm her legal husband. I can sign the waiver to cease treatment. It won't reflect badly on the hospital's reputation." A pained groan escaped my lips. I reached out, trying to plead with him, appealing to the years we'd spent together. Don't give up on me. Save me. As his wife, I knew his skills. If anyone could save me, it was him. But Ethan's face darkened. "Are you deaf?" he hissed. "Sophia is in critical condition, don't you understand? You probably staged this whole thing just to get me back here! If something happens to Sophia because I wasted time on you, can you live with that responsibility?" "You're always pulling stunts like this," he spat. "Serves you right if you die!" "Then... then could you just... check on my mom?" I forced the words out, my voice raspy and weak. At this point, I didn't even care that he'd abandoned me on the road. I wasn't begging him to save my life anymore. Just check on my mom at the hospital next door. It would only take half an hour, back and forth. Not long at all. "I told you, your mom's fine! It's the same old thing. If she dies, great, you two can have a little reunion in hell!" He turned impatiently to the other staff. "Who has the DNR forms? Give me one, I need to sign this now and get out of here. I have someone else to save!" Because he was the hospital's top surgeon, his word carried weight. When he declared me a lost cause, no one else dared to argue. 3: He Said He'd Make Me Live After Ethan stormed out, I heard hushed, angry voices nearby. "Dr. Hayes crossed a line this time. He could clearly save her, but he dragged his feet, and now he's just leaving? So unethical." "Shh, that's his wife! Be careful, you don't want him making your life miserable." A few junior doctors whispered amongst themselves, occasionally glancing my way. I didn't know if they pitied me for dying or mocked me because my own husband wouldn't save me. I was left on an old gurney, practically abandoned. No one dared approach me. People were constantly being wheeled into the operating rooms for emergency procedures. And I was just left there. Waiting to die. "Help... help me..." I rasped. "Nina! What happened to you?!" A familiar male voice roared my name, frantic. I couldn't place who it was, but I knew, finally, someone was here to help. "Why isn't anyone helping Nina?" the voice demanded. "She's... she's Dr. Hayes' wife," a young nurse stammered evasively. "He said she couldn't be saved... so, it's probably true. Besides, he signed the waiver himself, so the hospital isn't liable..." "She's still conscious! How can you say she can't be saved? What kind of doctor is Ethan Hayes?!" I felt myself being moved, pushed from darkness towards a bright light. "Ethan!" The male voice called out sharply, stopping Ethan in his tracks. Ethan turned back, defensive. "Look, Daniel, I know you're good, maybe even better than me, but I'm a top surgeon too. You think I can't tell when someone's beyond saving?" Smack! I heard the distinct sound of someone being hit, but my vision was too blurry to see who. The man who had come to my rescue—Daniel—spoke again, his voice laced with fury. "Ethan! Are you even human? Your own wife is dying, and you won't save her? You're just going to walk away? What was all that 'devoted husband' act about?" Ethan, enraged now, pried open my eyelid, checked my pupil, then lifted his chin defiantly. "Her pupils are blown! Not even a miracle worker could save her now. I said she's a lost cause, you got a problem with that?" With that, he stormed off again. After he left, I somehow found a surge of strength. My voice was hoarse, broken. "Save me! Please, save me... I don't want to die!" The words were fragmented, but clear enough. Through the haze, I saw someone push past the other doctors and rush towards me. His voice was firm, resolute. "I'll save her! I'll save Nina. As long as Nina wants to live, I'll make sure she lives, and lives well!" 4: Surgery Successful Who was he? The thought drifted through my fading consciousness. Twenty minutes later, wearing familiar surgical goggles, fully scrubbed and sanitized, he stood at the head of the operating table. "Anesthesiologist, full intubation, general anesthesia. Get the 3D CT model ready!" he commanded crisply. Everyone scrambled to prepare. He glanced down at me, his voice still cool. "What were you thinking, choosing a scumbag like that instead of me?" I struggled to open my eyes, trying to focus on my surgeon. When I finally saw his face clearly, the pain I felt intensified, and I genuinely wanted to cry. Daniel. It was Daniel. As soon as he took charge, a sense of calm settled over the operating room. After rapidly completing the critical procedures, the team began the slow process of closing the incision. Everyone held their breath, waiting for my blood pressure to stabilize. 3! 2! 1! The countdown ended. A few nurses let out excited whoops. Closure successful. Heartbeat steady. Oxygen levels normal. The surgery was a success! I was moved to a recovery room for observation. By evening, I was awake. Daniel Chen stood by my bedside. "We'll monitor you for rejection for a week. If there are no complications, you can move to a regular room." I stared at him intently. "Daniel, thank you. But... I need to ask you another favor. Before the accident, my mom was having heart surgery... at the hospital next door. Could you please go check on how she is?" Daniel looked at me deeply for a moment, then turned and left without a word. A pang of bitterness hit me. Daniel Chen... the most sought-after, wealthy guy in college. He'd pursued me relentlessly, showering me with flowers and cakes at my dorm, making me laugh when I was down. But back then, my heart belonged to Ethan, the poor scholarship student. I turned Daniel down again and again, marrying Ethan right after graduation. Daniel had finally let go then, wishing me happiness. And now, here I was, a complete wreck, saved by the man I rejected, exposed in my most vulnerable state. The irony was enough to make me want to weep. 5: Using My Things to Appease His Mistress Beep beep beep. The moment my phone turned on, it exploded with messages from Ethan. I steeled myself. What could my husband possibly have to say after leaving me for dead? Nina, are you dead yet? If not, just stay at the hospital for a while. Sophia needs to stay at our place for a few days. I couldn't believe my eyes. I'd just been dragged back from death's door, and now my husband wanted to move his old flame into our home? More texts flooded in. Nina, don't be unreasonable. Sophia's situation is really critical this time. Show some compassion. Besides, Sophia and I have known each other for years. If something was going to happen between us, don't you think it would have already? Anyway, I've made up my mind. Just stay put at the hospital. Nina, where are those silk pajamas you bought? The ones you haven't worn? I gave them to Sophia. Her skin is too delicate, not like your tough hide. ... Before I could even finish reading, I noticed Ethan had changed his profile picture. It used to be his professional headshot. I'd begged him countless times to use a couple's photo with me, but he always patiently explained that as the hospital's top surgeon, an unprofessional picture wouldn't look good. I'd understood his position. But now? His profile picture was two cute, pink teddy bears holding hands – exactly the kind of cutesy thing a girl would love. Then came another barrage of explanatory texts. Don't freak out. I had no choice. Sophia insisted we change it. She calmed down a lot after I changed the picture, finally stopped talking about suicide. I'm a doctor, Nina. My job is to save lives. I couldn't just stand by and watch someone die. If you weren't such a cruel person, you'd understand, right Nina? The messages painted a sickening picture: while I was fighting for my life, my husband was busy placating his old flame, Sophia. Now he was telling me he couldn't be there for me and was even using my belongings to appease his mistress?
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