The Echoes of Betrayal: A Checkup Gone Wrong

During my pre-pregnancy checkup, the female ultrasound tech suddenly let out a loud, disgusted "tsk." "You've got a scar on your lower abdomen. Have you had an abortion before?" "Your cervix shows signs of severe inflammation. Is your private life a mess?" "You've probably even had reconstructive surgery to fake your virginity, haven't you?" Then, without listening to a word of my defense, she looked right at my husband: "You couldn't get me, so you settled for this used goods?" "Aren't you afraid of raising someone else's kid?" I didn't even have a chance to tell her. Because I was afraid I'd forget the doctor's instructions, I had my phone's voice recorder running the entire time... 01 I had been married to Arthur for a year, and we were planning to have a baby. To prepare for our future child, I booked an appointment at the best private hospital in the city for a comprehensive pre-pregnancy checkup. Arthur was excited the entire drive there, holding my hand tightly in his. "Chloe, do you think our baby will look more like you or more like me? "It'd be best if they have your eyes, bright and sparkling, smiling like little crescent moons. And my nose, high and straight. "We need to get the nursery ready ahead of time, and all those little clothes and shoes, we have to use the best quality..." I listened with a smile, feeling very satisfied. Arthur was the husband I had carefully chosen. He came from an ordinary background, but he was honest, good-looking, and incredibly attentive to me. Having grown up around parents who navigated the cutthroat corporate world, I was used to deceit and had no interest in so-called "matching social status" or "power couple" marriages. I just wanted to find a simple, clean guy to live a peaceful, stable life with. And I had more than enough money to maintain that stable life. I used my connections to get him a cushy job at a friend's company—easy work, no overtime. Because I loved his content and grounded nature, I carefully protected his pride. I never threw the "I support you" fact in his face, nor did I ever mention our financial arrangement to outsiders. The female ultrasound tech was named Dr. Sarah Davis. She looked to be in her early thirties but was already an attending physician. She wore a crisp white coat, her hair pulled back into a strict bun, and gold-rimmed glasses. The gaze behind those lenses exuded an aloof, judgmental arrogance that kept people at a distance. From the moment we walked in, her eyes never left Arthur. And Arthur, the moment he saw her, visibly stiffened, his eyes darting away evasively. My heart gave a slight jolt, but I didn't show a hint of suspicion on my face. "Hello, Dr. Davis. Thank you for seeing us." I spoke softly, trying to ease the slightly weird atmosphere. Dr. Davis's gaze finally shifted from Arthur to my face, her eyes filled with undisguised scrutiny. She didn't respond, merely pointing coldly to the examination table behind the curtain. "Lie down. Pants down to your knees, shirt pulled up." Her tone was stiff, like a command, completely lacking the bedside manner a doctor should have. Arthur seemed a bit embarrassed and tried to say something, but I stopped him with a look. I signaled for him not to worry, then quietly pressed the record button on my phone. After all, medical jargon can be confusing, and I was afraid I wouldn't remember the precautions the doctor might give later. I lay down as instructed. The moment the cold ultrasound gel touched my skin, I couldn't help but flinch. Then, the ultrasound wand was pressed down. Hard. With a vindictive force, pressing and moving forcefully across my flat stomach. It wasn't gentle at all, bringing waves of dull, aching pain. I frowned in pain but didn't make a sound. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic beep of the machine. The atmosphere was terrifyingly oppressive. Just then, Dr. Davis suddenly let out a loud, sharp "tsk." The sound was sharp and clear, filled with disgust and contempt, like a needle precisely popping the dead silence. I saw Arthur's face change instantly. He anxiously took a step forward. "Dr. Davis, what's wrong? Is there a problem with my wife's health?" 02 Dr. Davis ignored him. The wand pressed repeatedly against a specific spot on my lower abdomen, the pressure increasing. She stared at the screen, but a malicious sneer curled on her lips. Her voice, neither loud nor soft, was perfectly clear for both of us to hear. "You've got a scar on your lower abdomen. Have you had an abortion before?" Her words were like a bomb dropping in the small ultrasound room. Before I could even react, Arthur was already looking at me in shock, his eyes filled with disbelief. I knew what she was talking about. On my lower abdomen, there was indeed a very, very faint scar. That was from when I participated in a junior fencing tournament abroad as a teenager and accidentally got scratched by the blunt tip of an opponent's foil. The wound wasn't deep, but it left a light pink mark. I had mentioned it to Arthur in passing, but he probably forgot. Or rather, presented with the "authoritative interpretation" of an OB/GYN, he was more willing to believe the latter. My heart ran cold. I opened my mouth to explain, but Dr. Davis gave me no chance. The wand in her hand continued moving downward, her movements rough. The discomfort made me want to flee the examination table immediately. Her voice sounded again, even more acerbic and vicious than before. "Oh, your cervix also shows signs of severe inflammation. Tsk tsk, sister, is your private life a mess?" The words "severe inflammation" felt like a bucket of dirty water thrown right in my face. Arthur's face had gone from shocked to bewildered. He looked at me, then at Dr. Davis, his lips moving, but not knowing what to say. After all, facing him was a "professional" doctor. And I was just a patient she had "diagnosed" with problems. Dr. Davis seemed very satisfied with Arthur's reaction. She glanced at me contemptuously, as if admiring her own masterpiece. The movement of her hand finally stopped, but her mouth didn't. "Looking at your age, you're still so tight. You must have spent a lot of effort, huh? "You've probably even had reconstructive surgery to fake your virginity. "What a pity. You can fool a man, but you can't fool my eyes." Three rapid-fire strikes, each one lethal. These three accusations were enough to destroy any woman's reputation and marriage. "Doctor." Arthur spoke with difficulty, his voice dry. "Are you... are you sure you didn't make a mistake? Chloe isn't that kind of person..." Dr. Davis finally removed the wand from my body and slowly, deliberately wiped her hands with a paper towel. Then, she turned around, no longer looking at me, but looking completely, condescendingly at Arthur. She took off her glasses, revealing eyes filled with resentment. "Arthur, long time no see. You've really moved up in the world, haven't you?" Her voice was dripping with bitterness. "You couldn't get me, so you got desperate and picked up this 'used goods' that who knows how many men have run through? "Look at her, head to toe in designer brands. Now that you have money, you know how to deck out your new catch in gold and silver? "Did you forget when we were together, we couldn't even afford a decent dinner at a nice restaurant? "I truly feel sorry for myself. How could I have ever fallen for a heartless thing like you!" By the end, she even had a hint of a sob in her voice, As if she were the deeply devoted, wronged victim. 03 And I, the "used goods" she was verbally attacking with such venom... Just sat up quietly and slowly, methodically adjusted my clothes. So that was it. It all made sense now. This Dr. Sarah Davis was Arthur's ex-girlfriend. A bitter ex who, thinking her former boyfriend had struck it rich, couldn't handle the jealousy and ran over to sow discord and try to ruin our marriage. Every word she said implied that Arthur had money now and had forgotten his old love. Unfortunately, she got one fundamental fact wrong. In our family, the one with the money was me. Arthur was just a man I had chosen, a guy with great "soft and hard skills" who was willing to marry into my lifestyle and take care of me at home. Watching Dr. Davis pouring her heart out to Arthur, Painting herself as a woman hurt by love who couldn't bear to see her ex-boyfriend deceived, And Arthur... The man I always thought was honest and grounded... Was currently looking at her with a face full of guilt, an expression that said "I'm sorry you suffered." My heart sank even further. I spoke up, shattering the tragic "rekindled romance" atmosphere between the two of them. "Dr. Davis, are you done?" Dr. Davis froze for a second, probably not expecting me to still be so calm. She glared at me fiercely: "A dirty woman like you has no right to speak!" Recklessly slandering a patient—is this her professional ethics as a doctor? I was just about to question her, but Arthur hurriedly cut me off. "Never mind, never mind, honey. Dr. Davis is just doing her job. Let's not make a fuss." I looked at him in astonishment, Wondering if he even knew who his wife actually was. Seeing this, Dr. Davis, thinking I really listened to Arthur's every word, raised her chin even more smugly. "A gold digger like you who relies on men for everything should keep your mouth shut. Careful, or I'll expose your messy private life and make sure you can't hook a single one." I looked at Arthur. His face wasn't looking good, but his gaze was fixed on the ultrasound machine. It was obvious that his resentment was clearly born out of suspicion towards me, Not directed at Dr. Davis. But that scar on my stomach was so thin and shallow, Let alone giving birth, a Barbie doll couldn't even fit through it. Moreover, the term "severe inflammation" for what she described had long been phased out by the medical community. It's now called "cervical ectropion," which is a perfectly normal physiological phenomenon and has absolutely nothing to do with one's private life. Did Dr. Davis, this "expert," not even know this basic common knowledge? I couldn't help but wave my phone, the screen still lit up, and let out a mocking laugh. "Dr. Davis, the 'diagnosis' you just gave me... I recorded it all right here. "Fabricating facts, malicious slander, destroying someone's reputation, and using your position to humiliate a patient. "Aren't you afraid of being reported?" Hearing this, before Dr. Davis could even react, Arthur panicked first. He fake-scolded Dr. Davis: "Stop trying to cause trouble! I believe in my wife's character." Then he grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me outside. "Chloe, let's go. This hospital is no good. We'll find another one!" But his nervous demeanor wasn't to protect me at all; it was to prevent Dr. Davis from getting reported. Because the hand gripping my wrist had absolutely no gentleness; he was pulling me so hard it hurt. And behind me, Dr. Davis was still provoking me. "You have a scar on your stomach. As a doctor, what's wrong with raising reasonable suspicions? "Your cervix isn't healthy either, that's a fact. Why can't I say it? "The hospital director is my uncle. Report me? Go ahead! "Let's see if the rumors about you spread faster, or if my disciplinary action comes down first." I wanted to turn back and continue arguing with her, but Arthur didn't give me the chance. He practically dragged me all the way to the parking lot. 04 It wasn't until we sat in the car that Arthur finally noticed my bright red wrist and ashen face. He spoke guiltily, a hint of cautious fawning in his voice. "Chloe, are you okay! "I'm so sorry. I was so afraid you'd get bullied, I didn't notice for a second. "Sarah... she just has that awful temper. She speaks without thinking. I apologize on her behalf." I watched him quietly, scrutinizing this man from head to toe. His inner ugliness was showing on his face. He looked uglier. When he thought I was going to throw a tantrum, I just quietly buckled my seatbelt and smoothed my hair in the rearview mirror. The woman in the mirror still looked the same. He truly was becoming less and less worthy of me. "Apologize? Why apologize? Didn't you say it yourself? Dr. Davis was just doing her job." I turned my head and looked at him, my gaze as clear and open as a spring. "Arthur, I'm not angry." After all, I never liked venting emotions instead of solving problems. But the more I said this, the worse Arthur's expression became, and the more anxious and uneasy he felt. "Chloe, don't be like this..." He tried to explain: "I was in a rush to pull you away because I wanted to look at the big picture. I didn't want to make an ugly scene at the hospital. "You know me, I'm just... I'm just not good at handling conflict. "Besides, I couldn't possibly doubt you just because someone else said a few words. Don't you even have that much confidence in yourself?" "I know." I nodded understandingly, as if completely convinced by him. "You're just too honest and grounded, always trying to keep the peace. It's okay, I understand." He opened his mouth, but realized that any explanation would seem pale and powerless in front of me. Ultimately, he could only dejectedly start the car. 05 From that day on, everything between us changed. He would only get into bed after I fell asleep, and quietly leave before I woke up. The nights that used to be filled with endless conversation were now filled with a dead silence. I noticed all of this, but I said nothing, and was even too lazy to argue with him. When a man starts doubting you, every word you say can become new "evidence" in his eyes. Explaining only becomes covering up. I still wore exquisite makeup, dressed appropriately, and went out with a bright smile every day. Only, when he was showering, I would lock the study door and calmly consult the best divorce lawyers online. I had to admit, although Dr. Davis's tactics were clumsy, they were indeed effective. She understood Arthur too well, understood the inferiority and paranoia in his bones. She started quietly sowing seeds in our shared social circle. First, it was Arthur's best friend Mark's wife, who asked me indirectly on WhatsApp: [Chloe, is Arthur under a lot of pressure lately?] [I noticed he closed his Instagram. Did you guys... have a fight?] Next, when I went to a college reunion with him, a female classmate seemingly casually pulled me aside and said: "Chloe, you're so lucky. Arthur is so good to you. "But you know men, sometimes they still need a little extra attention. Especially... things like ex-girlfriends can easily make their minds wander." I felt their strange gazes on me, a mix of sympathy, pity, and a barely noticeable hint of disdain. They looked at me as if looking at a woman using a glamorous exterior to hide a sordid interior. One evening, I finished my work early and went home. I quietly opened the front door, only to hear him on the balcony, talking on the phone. His voice was very low, but loud enough for me to hear clearly. On the other end of the line was Mark's loud, boisterous voice. "Arthur, I'm telling you, you're just too soft-hearted! What are you keeping a woman like that around for? "Sarah told me everything. The ultrasound showed it all! It's a mess! You better wise up!" My footsteps stopped. I leaned against the doorframe, listening quietly. Arthur sighed, his voice full of exhaustion and grievance. "I... I don't know what to do either. "After all, she's the daughter of a rich family. It's normal for them to play around. "Last time... last time I even saw a bottle of Vagisil in the bathroom. "Tell me, if she wasn't messing around outside, why would she suddenly get a feminine infection?" Vagisil? I almost laughed out loud. That was something I bought at the pharmacy for daily cleansing a while ago when I was feeling a bit uncomfortable during my period. I didn't expect this to also become evidence of his guilt against me. Truly, if you want to condemn someone, you can always trump up a charge. Mark's voice grew louder, filled with the righteous indignation of a brother. "Fuck! Seriously? Isn't that just an STD?! "Arthur, listen to me. You absolutely cannot keep a woman like this! So what if she has money? She's dirty! "Hurry up and divorce her! Get a lawyer and make her leave with nothing! "Get all her money into your hands, and then we'll find a clean, good girl! We all support you!" Then, I heard him agree with absolute certainty: "Yeah, you're right. I've suspected she had someone on the side for a long time, otherwise why would she always refuse to be intimate with me. "Okay, I know what to do."