1 “The patient is bleeding out. She’s dying. Where the hell is her husband? Didn’t I tell you to keep him on standby?” I was about to make an excuse for Mark, to tell them he was a doctor, that he’d been called into the hospital for an emergency. Then my phone lit up with a notification. It was a wedding photo, sent by Anna, Mark’s closest friend. “Thanks for lending me Mark, sis ;)” “Best 30th birthday ever! Don’t worry, we won’t actually consummate the marriage, lol.” In the picture, Mark was kissing Anna’s cheek. Their entire tight-knit group of friends surrounded them, all of them beaming with pure joy. Meanwhile, I was hemorrhaging, in desperate need of a signature for emergency surgery, and Mark was unreachable. When I finally, miraculously, got through to his phone, his voice was a cold slap. “The baby’s born, can’t you just leave me alone for a second?” “It’s Anna’s 30th birthday. It’s important. Everyone is here. I can’t just leave.” “I promised her I’d be with her for her 30th.” “God, why do you have to be such a buzzkill!” Just before I lost consciousness, another picture came through from Anna. It was a king-sized bed in a lavish hotel room. Mark and Anna were on it, laughing, as their friends playfully tried to shove them under the covers, whooping and hollering. …“Blood oxygen is dropping. Patient is in shock. Get more blood from the central bank, now! I want every available specialist in this OR, stat!” A Code Blue alert blared through the hospital, the frantic, piercing sound echoing down the halls. Doctors and nurses flooded my room. I could feel my own life slipping away, my body growing so light it felt like it was about to float right off the bed. Through the haze, a nurse’s voice, gentle but urgent, kept calling to me. “You have to fight. Your baby was just born. He’s in the NICU. You haven’t even had a chance to hold him yet.” “Don’t give up. Please, don’t give up on yourself. We are doing everything we can to save you.” Her voice was thick with desperation, cracking with unshed tears. I had no strength to respond, but a single thought looped in my fading mind. That’s right. My baby. I have my baby. I can’t die. I can’t… The hospital was pulling out all the stops, assembling the city’s top OB/GYN specialists for an emergency consultation. They were scrambling to get every unit of my rare blood type from every hospital in the region. “Still can’t reach the patient’s family?” “What is her husband doing? His phone is off?” “The patient’s parents passed away a few years ago. The husband is all she has… We have no choice. We have to operate. The patient’s life is the priority.” The voices around me faded in and out. The moments of silence were terrifying. Were they giving up on me? Was I going to die on this table? Would I ever see my baby? No. I couldn’t die. Mark would never take proper care of our child. If I died, my baby’s life would be ruined. I willed my body to heal, to just be okay. But the only thing I heard was a nurse’s panicked cry. “Where is that blood? We’re losing her!” “Have you reached Dr. Hunter at Central General? He’s the authority in this field. If we had him here, her chances would be so much higher.” Dr. Hunter? Mark Hunter? I wanted so desperately to speak. To tell them that the unreachable Dr. Hunter was my husband. But I had no voice. Someone sighed in frustration. “Dr. Hunter’s not coming. He took a special seven-day leave. Said it was his honeymoon. He married his childhood best friend.” “I thought he was going to be a bachelor forever,” another voice chimed in. “Whenever anyone asked if he was married or dating, he’d always say he wasn’t interested. Turns out he was in love with his best friend all along.” So. He had never even told his colleagues he was married. No wonder he’d insisted I never go to his hospital for my prenatal check-ups. He’d said it was to avoid troubling his coworkers. The truth was, he was afraid they’d find out about his wife of seven years. “Forget Dr. Hunter. He’s busy with his new bride. Let’s focus on keeping this woman alive!” Their words were so clear, but the anesthesia kept me pinned down, a prisoner in my own body. It dulled the pain but didn’t grant me the mercy of unconsciousness. It was a special kind of torture. I could feel the cold steel of their instruments, sense their rising panic, and feel the profound, chilling cold seep into my very bones. Just as I felt myself slipping away for good, the head nurse shouted, “Dr. Hunter’s on the phone!” 2 But the voice on the other end wasn't Mark's. It was Anna's. The sound of her voice was like a jolt of electricity to my brain, burning through the thin veil of anesthesia. A wave of agony pulsed through my chest. "Mark, you'd better thank me," she chirped. "If I hadn't told you to keep your work phone on, you would have missed this call." "Quick, someone from your hospital needs you." I heard Mark's voice, thick with adoration. "Yes, yes, you're the best. The smartest girl in the world." When he took the phone, his tone became clipped and professional. "I've seen the patient's chart you sent over. With her rare blood type and history of preeclampsia, the procedure is extremely high-risk. You need to contact her family immediately and inform them of the situation." "Dr. Hunter, we can't reach her family. His phone is off." Mark's voice was sharp with indignation. "His wife is giving birth and he won't even answer the phone? What kind of monster is he?" "Dr. Hunter, can you come over right now?" Then, Anna’s whining voice in the background. "Go ahead, then… just leave me here to celebrate my birthday all alone." "No, no, I'm not going," Mark soothed her, then spoke back into the phone. "I'm sorry, I can't make it. We're about to board a flight for a little getaway. Here, let me give you the number of someone who can help." He rattled off a name and hung up before they could protest further. It was only then that I realized he had a separate work phone, a whole other device I’d never even seen. A nurse standing beside me, monitoring my vitals, murmured to herself, "That's strange. When Dr. Hunter was speaking, for a second I thought it was this patient's husband. Their voices are identical." "Don't be ridiculous," another nurse chided. "You heard his wife in the background." At that moment, the blood units from the other hospitals finally arrived. And with them came another doctor. I heard a collective sigh of relief as a group of younger residents excitedly called him "Dr. Cole." The first thing he did was have the anesthesiologist check my dosage and increase it. I slipped into a deep, dreamless state and survived the marathon surgery. When I woke up, a nursing intern was sitting by my bed, recording data. Seeing my eyes open, she immediately called for the doctors. "Are you feeling any discomfort?" I shook my head. The lead doctor, after checking my incision and vitals, looked at me with a stern expression. "Sienna, how long has it been since you graduated? Have you forgotten everything you learned?" I looked up, really looking at his face for the first time. It was Dr. Evan Cole, my mentor from my residency days. He seemed even more serious now than I remembered. He studied my chart for a long moment. "Your husband just sent a message to your phone. Do you want me to read it to you?" I managed a weak nod. He used my face to unlock the phone, and a notification immediately popped up. It was a credit card charge. For nearly two thousand dollars. The vendor was the "Seaside Hotel & Resort: Honeymoon Package." Then, a text from Mark. "Hey babe, got called away on a work trip. I'll be back in a week. Sorry, things are just so crazy right now." He must have sent it just moments ago, because right after it came a message from Anna. 【Hey sis, this ocean view is just too beautiful not to share.】 The picture was of her and Mark, tangled together in a large bathtub overlooking the ocean. I could see the dark marks of his kisses on her skin. 【Isn’t it gorgeous? Mark said he’s going to bring you here for your anniversary. Same room, same bed.】 3 Everyone in the room saw the message. A heavy, awkward silence fell over us. Dr. Cole didn't say a word. He just turned off my phone, handed it back, and quietly instructed the intern to keep a close eye on me. The intern nodded and said something I couldn't quite hear. A few of the other staff chuckled, and Dr. Cole's ears turned a little red before he quickly turned and left. My private room was a lonely place. The intern would pop in periodically, but for the most part, my only companions were the beeping machines. That’s how I spent my birthday. On my birthday, my condition took a turn for the worse. I was rushed back into surgery. The only contact from Mark was a ten-dollar Venmo transfer that morning with the message "hbd." Then, silence. His social media profile was a blank line—he'd blocked me again. I spent the entire day in the ICU. Dr. Cole checked on me constantly, his face growing more weary with each visit. Later, when I was a little more lucid, I saw him standing outside the glass wall of my room. He was holding up a small cupcake with a single candle. I watched him mouth the words slowly, carefully, so I could understand. "Happy. Birthday. Sienna. When you're better, you can have this." I managed a faint smile and a determined nod. Finally, just before midnight, my condition stabilized and they moved me back to my room. Dr. Cole was there waiting, the candle on the cupcake lit. He asked me to make a wish. Without a moment's hesitation, I mouthed the word. "Divorce." He paused, then gently blew out the candle for me. "The universe says: wish granted," he said softly. I never ate the cake, but the fact that he remembered was more than enough. The next day, feeling a bit stronger, I reached for my phone to call my office and arrange for my maternity leave. But there was another birthday message waiting for me. From Anna. It was a video. A spectacular fireworks display over the ocean, with drones spelling out "Happy Birthday To You" in the night sky. The caption read: "Oops, wrong person, sis! This was from when Mark threw me a birthday party. Isn't it pretty?" She followed it up with a series of photos. They were from a private maternity photoshoot Mark had arranged for me. He had convinced me it was a beautiful way to commemorate my pregnancy, that the body was something to be celebrated. So I had agreed. Now, Anna had submitted those photos to a photography competition. And she hadn't chosen the tasteful, discreet shots. She had chosen the most revealing ones, the ones where my face was clearly visible. "Sis, your photos won an award! A lot of people were saying your stretch marks are disgusting, though. They just don't have an eye for art, I guess." Then, as if by "accident," she sent a voice message. It was Mark's voice. "To be honest, the comments aren't wrong. Sometimes I look at that belly full of stretch marks and I feel sick, too." Anna not only won an award with my photos but also a hefty cash prize. Mark's social media, which had been dark for days, was suddenly active again. His entire circle of friends was congratulating Anna, sharing the uncensored photos of me without a second thought. The moment I "liked" one of the posts, Mark finally contacted me. He said he was coming back soon to see me and the baby. Then he gave me an order: "It's about time you were discharged anyway. You can go home and look after Anna's cat for a few days." I simply replied, "Ok." A few days later, I contacted a divorce lawyer, had the papers drawn up, and sold the condo that was in my name, along with every single thing Mark had ever given me. I started a new social media account. My bio was simple: "The woman from the award-winning maternity photos." I began posting old videos of Mark and me, telling my side of the story. It gained traction fast. The photography association even contacted me, inviting me to be a special guest at Anna’s award ceremony. As for Mark, he never even showed up for my discharge. The excuse was that he was too busy at the hospital. But Anna had already let it slip to their friends—he was helping her prepare for the ceremony. The day of the awards was a grand affair. My photos were projected on a massive screen, cycling on a loop. Mark sat in the front row, reserved for family, beaming at Anna with adoration. He was even wearing the tie I had given him. Anna held her trophy high. "I want to thank my dearest, most beloved friend, Mark Hunter," she gushed. "Without his constant care and support, I wouldn't be where I am today." Mark walked onto the stage with a bouquet of flowers. They embraced, a deep, meaningful hug. And just as Mark leaned in to kiss the corner of her lips, the doors to the auditorium burst open. "Mr. Hunter, Ms. Vance," a police officer said calmly. "Please come with us."
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