1 After a car accident, Shane developed a rare memory distortion. He forgot me but believed Dana, his longtime admirer, was his ten-year girlfriend. He doted on her while treating me like a desperate stalker. I exhausted myself trying to reach him, clinging to the fact that he was alive. One afternoon, I overheard him speaking with Justin in the stairwell. When Justin worried I would leave if I found out, Shane laughed it off. He admitted Dana was dying and confessed the crash and amnesia were staged to grant her final wish. He planned to blame a medical anomaly later and claim his memory returned. I stood frozen at the top of the stairs, a bitter smile forming. All my sleepless nights researching specialists for his condition had been wasted. I had been trying to cure a lie. I forced my trembling legs to carry me down the stairs. Without a second thought, I tossed the thermal container of chicken broth, which I had simmered on low heat for five hours, straight into the trash can. Ever since Shane's accident, I had been running myself ragged, trying to show up in his life at every turn, praying he would look at me and remember. I had even swallowed my secular pride and knelt at a local temple, praying to a god I didn't believe in. And all the while, I was nothing but a nuisance to him, a shameless woman who didn't know her place. I never imagined the truth could be so ugly. No wonder he had flatly refused to step foot in my hospital's neurology department. He was simply terrified of being exposed. I wanted to storm back into the stairwell and scream at him, but my pager buzzed. An emergency craniotomy was waiting for me. Pushing my grief aside, I threw on my scrubs and rushed into the operating room. By the time I finally emerged hours later, drained and exhausted, I opened my phone to find a new post on Shane's social media feed. The caption read: Saying "I love you" at the very peak of the world. In the photo, he and Dana were leaning their heads together, their hands joined to form a perfect heart against the backdrop of a glowing Ferris wheel. Both of them were beaming. I tilted my head back, blinking rapidly to keep the hot tears from falling. Years ago, during our university days, our class had organized a trip to an amusement park. I had begged Shane to ride the Ferris wheel with me, bringing up the old legend that couples who kiss at the very top would stay together forever. He had scoffed, telling me it was a childish, stupid superstition. "We're graduating medical school, Nora. Leave the fairy tales to the kids." It turned out he didn't hate the Ferris wheel. He just hated the idea of riding it with me. I let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh, tapped the "like" button on the post, and shoved my phone back into my pocket. Seconds later, a text from Shane flashed across my screen. Unfriend me. My girlfriend is uncomfortable with you being on my list. I stared at the screen, my chest tightening until I could barely breathe. The tears finally spilled over, hot and relentless. What a fiercely protective, perfect boyfriend he was. Dana was two years younger than us. She had fallen for Shane the moment she arrived on campus as a freshman. She was bold, loud, and entirely unapologetic about her feelings. Every day, she showered him with snacks, coffee, and endless flirtatious messages. Back then, I had been deeply hurt by her persistence and asked Shane to block her. I still remembered the arrogant, mocking look on his face. "Nora, can you please have a little faith in your boyfriend? I know where the boundary is. Blocking someone over something so trivial is just childish." I wiped the tears from my screen and slowly typed a single word: Okay. When I tried to send it, a glaring red exclamation mark appeared. He had already blocked me. I changed out of my scrubs and walked straight to the chief of surgery's office. "Director Cole, is the spot for the fellowship in London still open? I want to take it." Director Cole looked up, clearly taken aback. "I thought you wanted to stay here to oversee your boyfriend's rehabilitation?" I offered a tight, empty smile. "Plans change. Like you always say, a young doctor should put her career first." 2 Three days later, our former class president, Luke, was getting married. The invitation had arrived months ago, making it impossible to avoid. The thought of facing Shane made my stomach churn, but I couldn't skip the wedding. I arrived just as the ceremony was about to start, hoping to slip in unnoticed, but fate had other plans. The only vacant seat at the medical school table was directly next to Shane. I took my seat, forcing my face into a mask of pure indifference, though my mind was screaming with the memory of his betrayal. Our former classmates looked back and forth between Dana, who was clinging to Shane's left arm, and me. Their eyes practically begged for an explanation. "Shane had an accident recently," I said, keeping my voice light and professional to spare them the awkwardness. "In his mind, Dana is his girlfriend now." Shane wrapped his arm around Dana's waist, his voice cold and devoid of any warmth. "I don't know what you're talking about. Dana has always been my girlfriend." A heavy, sympathetic silence settled over the table. Fortunately, the wedding march began, saving us from further conversation. As the newlyweds exchanged rings, one of our more outspoken classmates let out a soft sigh. "Man, I really thought Nora and Shane would be the first of our class to walk down the aisle. I mean, ten years..." Before he could finish, another classmate kicked him sharply under the table. Realizing his blunder, the guy tried to pivot, looking at me with an apologetic grin. "Well, Nora, since you're single now, how about giving me a chance?" I knew he was just trying to break the tension, so I offered a polite smile and stayed quiet. But Shane suddenly let out a sharp, mocking scoff. "Some people certainly move on quickly. Just a few days ago, you were dropping off homemade broth at my apartment, and now you're already hunting for your next target. Pathetic." "At least I'm not a fraud," I shot back, my voice cutting through the noise of the room. "Playing house with a fake reality is what's truly pathetic." Shane's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of panic crossing his features before he fell silent. The atmosphere at the table turned suffocatingly tense. Seeing the shift, Dana tightened her grip on Shane's arm, shaking it gently. "Shane, don't be so hard on Nora. It's my fault anyway. It's only natural she's bitter." "You don't owe her anything," Shane murmured, his gaze entirely avoiding mine as he picked up a shrimp and began peeling it for her. My chest ached. In the early days of our relationship, he used to do that for me too. But as the years went on, he grew tired of the little things. The last time I had asked him to peel a shrimp for me, he had snapped. "Do you not have hands, Nora? If you want to eat, peel it yourself. If not, don't eat." It turned out he hadn't grown tired of the gesture. He had just grown tired of me. My throat burned with unshed tears. To keep from breaking down in front of everyone, I pushed my chair back and excused myself to the restroom. After splash of cold water on my face, I composed myself and walked out, only to find Dana blocking the corridor. Her face was twisted into a smug, victorious grin. "Nora, Shane belongs to me now. Do us both a favor and stop showing your face around him." "Then you should have kept him at home today," I replied coldly. "These are my friends and my colleagues. I am not abandoning my life for a man." I looked at her, thinking of Shane's words: Dana is dying. Looking at her vibrant, spiteful face, she didn't look like someone on the brink of death. Still, as a doctor, I knew how cruel terminal illnesses could be. Despite my dislike for her, I didn't want to engage with a dying patient. I took a step to bypass her. But Dana suddenly glanced over my shoulder, a sudden, vicious gleam flashing in her eyes. Without warning, she raised her hand and slapped herself hard across the cheek, then began violently tearing at her own hair. "Nora, please! I'm sorry! I know it's my fault, but I truly love him!" I stared at her in utter disbelief. Before I could process the sheer absurdity of her performance, a furious, familiar voice shattered the air. 3 "Nora! What the hell are you doing?" Shane came running down the hall. He pushed me aside to cradle Dana, glaring at me with eyes full of pure hatred. "Nora, who gave you the right to lay a hand on my girlfriend?" The realization of Dana's trap hit me. It was a scene straight out of a cheap soap opera, but it was happening to me. Anger flared hot in my chest. "You honestly think I hit her?" I turned to Dana, my voice dripping with ice. "Did I touch you?" Dana shrank back into Shane's chest, trembling like a frightened rabbit. "No, Shane, she didn't... it's fine." "Nora, apologize to her right now," Shane snarled. I looked at him, feeling a profound, deep-seated disgust. Without another word, I turned to leave. But Shane lunged forward, grabbing my arm in a tight grip. "Are you deaf, Nora? Is saying sorry that difficult for you?" "It's not," I said, my voice eerily calm as I looked down at his hand, then up at Dana. "I'm only going to ask you one last time, Dana. Did I slap you?" Dana whimpered, burying her face in his shoulder. "Shane, please just let it go. She only did it because she still loves you. I don't mind." So she was going to play the victim to the end. A cold smile touched my lips. I yanked my arm out of Shane's grasp, took two swift steps toward Dana, and delivered a swift, resounding slap across her face. The crack echoed down the empty hallway. "Now, I've actually hit you," I said, my voice steady. "And for this, I will apologize. I am sorry." Dana gasped, clutching her reddening cheek, her eyes wide with genuine shock and fury. Losing his mind with rage, Shane lunged at me, shoving me violently away from her. "Nora, you've completely lost your mind! Do you have any idea what she is going through?" "I don't care," I said, cutting him off. "I refuse to apologize for things I didn't do. Now that the crime matches the punishment, we're even. Get out of my way." "You arrogant bitch," Shane roared. Before I could react, he kicked me hard in the back of my knee. My leg buckled, and I went flying forward. As I fell, my instinct was to put my right hand out to break my fall. There was a sickening, loud crack. An excruciating, blinding white pain shot up my arm, and I gasped, collapsing onto the cold tile floor. At that exact moment, Olivia, our classmate from the OB-GYN department, stepped into the hallway. She gasped, immediately rushing over to kneel beside me. "Nora! Shane, what the hell is wrong with you two?" The moment she touched my arm, a scream of agony escaped my lips. "Don't touch it, Olivia. I think my right wrist is broken." Olivia's face drained of color. Shane, however, let out a harsh, dry laugh. "Cut the act, Nora. You slap someone and then fake an injury just to get out of an apology? You're pathetic." Olivia glared up at him, her voice trembling with anger. "How can you speak to her like that? Shane, whatever lies you've bought into, she was your partner for ten years! How could you do this to her?" Shane looked slightly unsettled, but he quickly pulled Dana close. "I don't care about the past. Dana is my only priority." Olivia shook her head in disgust. "You're going to regret this, Shane. I promise you." 4 Olivia immediately posted in our class group chat, letting everyone know that we were heading to the hospital because my wrist was broken. The chat exploded with worried messages. "What happened? How did she break her wrist?" "Oh my god, is it serious? Nora is a neurosurgeon, her hands are her entire life!" Amidst the sea of concern, Shane's message was a jarring, toxic stain. Dr. Vance is certainly talented. Creating a fake injury just to avoid apologizing for assaulting my girlfriend. I hope the lie was worth it, because if you ruin your own hands over a stunt, you'll never hold a scalpel again. An hour later, a furious Olivia uploaded my X-ray directly to the group chat. @Shane, is this the fake injury you were talking about? You absolute bastard. You've destroyed her career. How are you any different from a murderer? Shane replied with a mocking emoji. The two of you are doctors. Faking an X-ray report is as easy as drinking water for you. Olivia was practically shaking with rage as she stared at her phone. "He's completely lost his mind." Are you serious, Shane? Faking a medical record is a career-ending offense. Nobody would risk that. So Nora's wrist is actually broken? Can she still perform surgery after this? I closed the app, the silence of the hospital room settling over me like a heavy shroud. The orthopedic specialist walked in, his expression solemn. "Nora, I won't lie to you. It's a severe Smith's fracture with significant nerve damage. We can get you back to normal daily function, but as for the fine motor skills required for neurosurgery, it's highly unlikely you'll ever operate again." I leaned my head against the cold hospital pillow, feeling completely hollow. I didn't regret slapping Dana. My only regret was ever loving Shane. The door clicked open, and the one person I despised most walked in. Shane stood by the edge of my bed, his eyes red and swollen. He looked at my heavily bandaged arm, his voice trembling as he spoke. "Nora... I'm so sorry. I didn't think... I didn't know it was this bad." "Get out," I whispered, turning my face toward the wall. He stood there for a long time, sighing in heavy, guilt-ridden silence, before finally slipping away to buy breakfast. The moment the door closed, another visitor stepped inside.
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