“Anyone here for her?” I asked, but the room remained silent.
Then, a voice broke through the chaos.
“It’s me!”
I turned, my heart stumbling in my chest. It was him. Jason Lee, my husband, who had vanished without a trace on our wedding anniversary. But now, he was standing in front of me, signing a consent form for another woman.
Without missing a beat, he scribbled his name and casually wrote “husband and wife” in the relationship section. I couldn’t breathe for a second. He was still wearing our wedding ring!
He didn’t even recognize me, not with the mask on. His hand found mine, desperate, trembling. His eyes… Those eyes, were wide, pleading.
“You have to save her,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “She’s pregnant. I didn’t mean to… I touched her. And now… it’s all my fault. Please, you have to save her. I love her. I can’t live without her.”
I stared at him, the world around me spinning. My wedding ring slipped off my finger, clinking against the floor.
I pulled my hand away and turned toward the operating room, forcing myself to walk calmly.
Inside, a colleague smiled at me, his voice cheery as always. “Dr. Green, the results are in. It’s twins.”
I managed a smile, but it felt like it belonged to someone else. “Tell my husband congratulations,” I said, my tone cold, almost mechanical.
I paused, then added, just as casually, “And make sure you help me with the abortion afterward.”
