1 “This woman is bleeding out after childbirth. Isn’t her husband supposed to be watching her? Where is he?” I was about to make an excuse for my husband, Robert, to say he was a doctor and had an emergency at the hospital he couldn’t get away from. Just then, I received a wedding photo from Robert’s best friend, Anna. “Thanks for lending me Robert, sis-in-law,” the text read. “I had a great 30th birthday. Don’t worry, we won’t be consummating the marriage, lol.” In the photo, Robert was kissing Anna’s cheek. Their entire circle of friends surrounded them, their faces beaming with happiness. Meanwhile, I was hemorrhaging so severely that I needed a family member’s signature for emergency surgery, but Robert was unreachable. When I finally managed to get through to him, his only words were, “The baby’s already born. Can’t you just give me a break?” “It’s Anna’s 30th birthday. It’s important. Everyone is here; I can’t leave.” “I promised her I’d be with her for her 30th.” “Why do you have to be such a buzzkill?” Right before I lost consciousness, Anna sent another photo. It was a picture of a large bed. Robert and she were lying on it, surrounded by their friends, who were raucously celebrating their “wedding night.” …“Oxygen levels are dropping. The patient is showing signs of shock. Get blood from another hospital’s bank, now! Notify all specialists to report to the OR immediately!” The hospital’s emergency code, “999,” blared through the halls. Doctors and nurses rushed into my room. I could feel my life slipping away, my body so light it felt like it could float off the bed at any moment. Through the haze, I could hear a nurse’s gentle voice. “You have to fight. Your baby was just born. He’s in the incubator. You haven’t even held him yet.” “Don’t give up on yourself. Please, don’t give up. We’re doing everything we can to save you.” Her voice was urgent, laced with a choked sob. I had no strength to respond, but my mind kept repeating, That’s right, I have my baby. I can’t die, I can’t… The hospital was pulling out all the stops, gathering the city’s top OB-GYN specialists for an emergency consultation, rapidly sourcing blood from every available bank. “We still can’t reach the patient’s family. What do we do?” “What is her husband doing at a time like this? His phone is off?” “The patient’s… parents passed away a few years ago. She only has her husband. If we have to, we’ll proceed with the surgery. The patient’s life is the priority.” The voices around me faded in and out. The silence was terrifying. Are they going to give up on me? Am I going to die on this operating table? Will I ever see my child? No, I can’t die. Robert won’t take care of my baby. If I die, my child’s life will be ruined. I wished I could just be well again. But all I heard were the frantic shouts of the medical staff. “Where is that blood? The patient is fading!” “Have you contacted Dr. Robert from Central Hospital? He’s the top authority in OB-GYN. With him here, the success rate would be much higher.” Dr. Robert? I wanted so badly to speak. To tell them that Dr. Robert, my Robert, was the husband they couldn’t reach. But I had no chance. Someone said with a sigh, “Dr. Robert probably won’t come. He took a special seven-day leave. Said he was getting married to his childhood friend and going on a honeymoon.” “I thought Dr. Robert was going to be a bachelor forever. Whenever we asked if he was married or dating, he always said he didn't need to. Turns out he was in love with his best friend all along.” So, he had never told his colleagues he was married. No wonder he never let me go to his hospital for my check-ups. He said it would be an inconvenience for his coworkers, but the truth was he didn’t want them to know he had a wife of seven years. “Forget Dr. Robert. He’s probably celebrating his wedding night right now. Let’s just focus on saving this patient!” Their words were so clear, yet I couldn't react. The anesthesia seemed to dull the pain but didn't put me completely under. It was torture. I could feel the cold steel of their instruments, sense their tension, and feel the creeping cold in my own body. Just when I thought I was done for, the head nurse shouted, “Dr. Robert answered his phone!” 2 But the voice on the other end of the line wasn't Robert's. It was Anna's. Her voice grated on my nerves, making the already ineffective anesthesia even more useless. I could feel my chest heaving, the pain unbearable. “Robert, you should thank me. If I hadn’t made you keep your work phone on, you would have missed this call.” “Yeah, yeah,” Robert’s voice was full of affection. “You’re the best, the smartest.” When he took the phone, his tone became serious. “I saw the patient’s chart you sent over. With her rare blood type and gestational hypertension, it’s a very difficult case. You need to contact the family as soon as possible and get their consent.” “Dr. Robert, we can’t reach her family. We’ve been trying, but his phone is off.” Robert sounded angry. “His wife is giving birth, and he won’t even answer his phone? What kind of animal is he?” “Dr. Robert, can you come over now?” Anna’s complaining voice drifted through the phone. “Go on then… Just leave me here to celebrate my birthday all by myself.” “No way, I’m not going.” After comforting her, Robert spoke into the phone again. “I’m sorry, I can’t make it. We’re about to board a flight for a little getaway. I can connect you with someone else, though.” Then he hung up, as if afraid they would try to persuade him further. And that's when I realized he had a separate work phone, a phone I had never even seen. A nurse standing beside me, monitoring my vitals, murmured, “For a second there, when Dr. Robert was talking, I thought it was this patient’s husband. Their voices are identical.” “Don’t be ridiculous. His wife was right there with him, you heard her.” At that moment, the blood from the other hospitals arrived. Along with the plasma came another doctor. I heard a chorus of excited voices calling him “Professor.” He immediately had the anesthesiologist check my dosage and increase it. I drifted into a deep sleep and endured a long, life-saving surgery. When I woke up, a nursing intern was sitting by my bed, recording my vitals. When she saw my eyes open, she immediately called in a team of doctors and nurses. “Are you feeling any discomfort?” I shook my head. The lead doctor examined my incision and my chart, then looked at me. “Chloe Shaw, how long has it been since you graduated? Have you forgotten everything you learned?” I looked up at him closely. It was Aaron, the senior student who had supervised our lab work back in grad school. He seemed even more serious than I remembered. He studied me for a moment. “Your husband just sent a message to your phone. Do you want me to open it for you?” I managed a weak nod. He unlocked my phone with my face ID, and a notification popped up instantly. It was a charge alert from my bank account. A nineteen-thousand-dollar expense at a seaside resort for a honeymoon package. Then, a message from Robert. “On a business trip. Be back in a week. Sorry, babe, just been so busy.” But right after he sent that, a message from Anna came through. [Sis-in-law, this ocean-view room is gorgeous! I had to share it with you.] The accompanying photo was of her and Robert in a bathtub, looking out at the sea. There were even hickeys on her neck. [Don’t you think it’s beautiful, sis-in-law? Robert said he’ll bring you here for your anniversary. Same room, same bed.] 3 Everyone in the room saw that message. A heavy, awkward silence fell. Aaron didn’t say anything. He just turned off my phone and instructed the intern to monitor me closely. The nurse nodded and said something I couldn't quite hear. I only saw everyone else trying to hide their smiles. Aaron's face turned red, and he quickly left the room. I was alone in that private room most of the time, with only the beeping machines for company, even on my birthday. On my birthday, my condition worsened, and I was rushed back into surgery. Robert sent a red envelope with a simple “Happy Birthday” in the morning and then disappeared. His social media profile was a blank line. I spent my entire birthday in the ICU. Aaron came to see me constantly, looking more and more exhausted each time. When I was a little more lucid, I saw him standing outside the glass window, holding up a small cake. He mouthed the words, “When you’re better, you can have your birthday cake. Happy birthday, Chloe!” He paused after each word, making sure I could understand. I managed a small smile and a weak nod. Finally, just before midnight, my condition stabilized, and I was moved out of the ICU. Aaron was there with the cake, the candle lit. He asked me what my wish was. Without a moment’s hesitation, I mouthed, “A divorce.” Aaron paused for a second, then blew out the candle for me. “The heavens say your wish will come true,” he told me. I didn’t get to eat the cake, but the fact that he remembered was enough. The next day, feeling a little better, I was about to call my office to request leave when I saw a birthday message from Anna. It was a video. A spectacular fireworks display over the ocean, with drones spelling out “Happy Birthday to You.” The caption read: “Oops, wrong person, sis-in-law. This was from when Robert celebrated my birthday. Isn't it beautiful?” She then sent a series of photos. They were private maternity photos she had taken of me when I was pregnant. Robert had convinced me it was to capture a beautiful memory, that the body was something to be celebrated, not hidden. So I had agreed. But Anna had taken those photos and entered them into a photography competition. And she hadn't chosen the tasteful, discreet ones. She used the ones where my face was clearly visible. “Sis-in-law, your photos won an award! Though a lot of people said your stretch marks are disgusting. They just don't have an eye for art.” After sending that, she pretended to hit the wrong button and sent a voice message. It was Robert’s voice. “They’re not wrong, you know. Sometimes when I see all those stretch marks, I feel disgusted too.” Anna not only won an award with those photos but also a hefty cash prize. Robert, who had been absent from social media for days, suddenly reappeared. Everyone in their little group was congratulating Anna, sharing my photos without blurring my face. After I ‘liked’ one of the posts, Robert finally contacted me. He said he was coming back soon to see me and the baby, then casually ordered, “You should be getting discharged soon. Perfect timing, you can go home and look after Anna’s cat for a few days.” I simply replied, “Okay.” After a few more days of recovery, I contacted a divorce lawyer, had the papers drawn up, and sold the house that was in my name, along with everything Robert had ever given me. I started a short-form video account, using the persona of the woman from Anna’s controversial maternity photos. It quickly gained traction. The photography association even contacted me, inviting me to be a special guest at Anna’s award ceremony. Robert never came to see me, not even on the day I was discharged. His excuse was that he was too busy at the hospital. But Anna had already told me the truth: he was with her, helping her prepare for the ceremony. The day of the awards was a grand affair. My photos were projected on a giant screen, cycling on a loop. Robert sat in the family section, his eyes full of adoration for Anna. He was even wearing the tie I had given him. Anna held up her trophy, beaming. “I want to thank my dearest, most beloved friend, Robert. Without his constant care and support, I wouldn’t have achieved this today.” Robert walked onto the stage with a bouquet of flowers. They embraced deeply. Just as Robert leaned in to kiss the corner of Anna’s mouth, the doors burst open. It was the police. “Mr. Robert, Ms. Anna, please come with us.” 4 They stared at the police, stunned. They had no idea what they could have done wrong. Anna shrank into Robert’s arms, looking wronged. “Robert, I didn’t do anything. Why are the police here? It wasn’t Chloe, was it?” “She’s still in the hospital. And what could she possibly report us for?” At that moment, I stood up. The video on the screen had just switched to one of my more revealing maternity photos. This wasn’t one of the angles she had taken with my permission. It was clearly a candid shot, taken while I was changing. I hadn’t even known she was taking a picture. But she had used this photo for the competition. Her motive was crystal clear. She wanted to humiliate me, to show everyone that I, with my imperfect body and stretch marks, was unworthy of a genius doctor like Robert. That she was the one who truly deserved him. This was the photo that everyone in their friend group had shared. It proved they all knew what Anna was doing and supported her. Robert had probably given them some subtle encouragement, confident that I would just take it, that I wouldn’t make a fuss, especially now that I had his child. So they had all felt free to bully me, to share my private photos, some even posting them on public platforms, leading to a barrage of hateful comments. I had screenshots of it all from the backend of my own video account. All of this was evidence for my police report. The moment I received the invitation to this ceremony, I knew what I had to do. I looked at Robert. “What could I report you for? This photo alone is enough. And even without it, I have other things. Do you want to hear them?” Robert was shocked to see me. I had lost a lot of weight and looked much more haggard than a new mother should. “You… what are you doing here?” He started to walk towards me, but Anna held him back. He didn’t push her away, just kept asking me what was wrong, why I was so thin. “Where’s the baby? Why are you alone? Is the baby okay?” I let out a cold laugh. “So you do remember you have a child? You remember you have a child, yet you were shacked up with Anna in another city while I was hemorrhaging after childbirth!” The moment the words left my mouth, the media outlets covering the event swiveled their cameras towards me. This was much more interesting than an awards ceremony. With the heat I’d already generated online, they weren’t about to miss this opportunity. Robert and his little group of five immediately turned on me. “Don’t you dare make things up! You know we can sue you for slander!” “That’s right! Robert was just celebrating Anna’s birthday with her. We’ve been doing that for years. Why should he stop just because he’s married to you? Anna buys you makeup, and gifts, she’s so good to you! Why are you so petty?” “Yeah!” After the chorus of accusations, Robert turned to the police. “I’m so sorry about this. My wife just gave birth, she probably has some postpartum depression. This is all just a domestic dispute. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” But the police officer was firm. “Your wife has provided a complete chain of evidence. It strongly suggests that you and Ms. Anna have illegally recorded and used another person’s image for profit.”
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