1 On my birthday, my mother-in-law, fresh off the operating table, was rushed back into the emergency room. In a newly posted video by an intern, he was the one holding the scalpel, cutting her open. My wife, who was supposed to be the lead surgeon, was nowhere in sight. The caption read: “They say an intern isn’t qualified to operate? Doesn’t matter when the department head’s wife has a soft spot for you.” My colleagues flooded the comments, gushing over the "cute" revelation. I forwarded the video to the hospital director. It wasn't long before my wife called, her breathing ragged, her voice sharp and broken. “So I forgot your birthday! Is that any reason to run to the director with fabricated stories about me violating hospital policy?” “I’ve had enough of your irrational nonsense! This time, even if my own mother sides with you, I’m done! We’re getting a divorce—” She hung up before I could get a word in. But she didn’t know. Her mother wouldn't be siding with me anymore. Because the patient who bled out on the table, the one whose post-op rescue failed because an intern was at the helm, was her mother. A doctor was standing in front of me, impatiently holding a death certificate for my signature. “We did everything we could. You can take the body once you’ve signed.” The gurney had already been wheeled out of the ER, yet this doctor just kept pushing the form at me, completely ignoring the flagrant violation of an intern performing surgery. A bitter, ironic smile touched my lips. “I refuse to sign. I’m requesting a medical malpractice investigation.” The doctor’s smile became strained. He tried to reason with me. “Dr. Collins, the department head, said the cause of death was post-operative complications. The surgery itself was fine.” I insisted. The doctor, left with no choice, finally relented. In the work group chat, the intern, Mark, tagged me. “@Dr. Grant, I’m so sorry. The caption on my video had a typo. I meant to write ‘Dr. Collins’ but my phone autocorrected it to ‘wife’. I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding.” Other colleagues quickly jumped to his defense. “It was just a typo! What’s the big deal?” “If my attending doctor had been as amazing as Dr. Collins when I was an intern, letting me get hands-on experience, I’d be showing off too.” “It’s just a normal mentor-mentee relationship. Why does Dr. Grant have to make it sound so sordid?” These were the same people I’d bailed out of trouble countless times. But the moment they sensed that my wife, Dr. Amelia Collins, the head of our department, favored the new intern, they didn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus to curry favor with him. And now, even knowing he had performed an unauthorized surgery, they were still lying through their teeth. I let out a cold laugh and typed back: “You know perfectly well whether it was a typo or not.” The moment I hit send, I was muted. The group administrator was, of course, my wife, Amelia. I closed my eyes, a profound bitterness welling up inside me. I left the hospital to gather the documents needed for the malpractice claim. As I was leaving, the circulating nurse from the surgery rushed to find me. “Dr. Grant! The patient Dr. Collins let Mark operate on… something’s happened!” I looked at her calmly. “And?” She couldn't meet my eyes, her voice dropping to a whisper. “There might have been a problem with the surgery. The family is demanding a malpractice investigation.” She took a breath. “Dr. Collins is hoping you’ll take responsibility for it.” I thought I’d misheard. Amelia, in her reckless attempt to boost Mark’s career, had let him operate. Now that it had ended in disaster, she wanted me, her own husband, to be the scapegoat to protect herself and her pet intern. For him, she had forgotten her duty as a doctor, and now she was discarding me without a second thought. The most tragic part? She still had no idea who the patient was. My heart turned to ice. “No. She made this mess, she can clean it up.” I brushed past the nurse and walked away. A few moments later, a video call from Amelia popped up on my phone. Her face was contorted with rage. “How can you compare yourself to me? I’m the department head! You’re just a regular doctor. If you lose your job, you lose your job!” “Ethan, have a heart! Mark is just starting his career! You can’t ruin his entire life just because you’re being selfish!” Wasn’t I the one with a heart? The promotion to department head was originally mine, but I gave it to her. I had poured my heart and soul into our marriage, and this is what I got in return. The disappointment in my eyes must have registered, because her tone softened into an apology. “Honey, I didn’t mean that. I was just thinking about how hard it was for us when we were interns, all the crap we had to take. I just wanted to look out for him.” “Mark really wants to be a doctor. If you help him with this, I’ll take back what I said about the divorce…” Before she could finish, Mark’s face appeared in the frame. “Dr. Collins, I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself and stay in a failed marriage because of me.” A derisive smile twisted my lips. “That’s right. Being married to me must be such a hardship for you.” 2 “Such a hardship that everyone in the department is defending you and your precious intern.” “So let’s just get the divorce. Then you can have a marriage without any hardships with him.” My words struck a nerve. “Ethan Grant! Are you deaf? I told you, there’s nothing going on between me and Mark!” she shrieked. “I guess what everyone in the department says about you is true! You’re just a paranoid, accusatory asshole!” Mark gently stroked her back, his voice a soothing murmur. “Dr. Collins, as much as I want to be a doctor, I won’t let you get dragged into this. I’ll take full responsibility.” Amelia’s eyes filled with adoration and pain. “I’m your mentor. I’ll see this through to the end. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Her voice then shifted, becoming cold and commanding. “Ethan! You are going to the director and you are telling him that you were the lead surgeon on that case, and Mark was only there to observe. If you don’t, I’ll have the divorce papers signed and on your desk by tomorrow!” She hung up. I felt nothing. Not a ripple of emotion. In fact, I almost wanted to laugh. She had already signed a divorce agreement during our first major fight over Mark. All it needed was my signature to become legally binding. By the time I finished preparing the malpractice claim, the sun was rising. A colleague, one whose ass I had saved during a previous patient complaint, called me. “Dr. Grant, come on. It wasn’t easy for Mark to get this internship. You’ve helped us out so many times, what’s the big deal helping him out this once? Besides, helping him is helping Dr. Collins. You don’t want to see her get into trouble, do you?” I didn’t even bother to respond. I just hung up and blocked his number. Amelia, these spineless colleagues… I was done with all of them. I pulled the divorce agreement from my desk drawer and signed my name. Then I packed up all of Amelia’s belongings and had them couriered to Mark’s apartment. When I saw a photo of Amelia and her mother, my eyes stung with tears. My own family was a mess; I’d never known parental love. After we married, my mother-in-law treated me like her own son, filling a void I never thought could be filled. When she found out about Amelia and Mark, she had chewed Amelia out more than once, furious on my behalf. She deserved a long, happy life. Instead, she was gone because of a minor surgery. The next day, I walked into the department to find Mark sitting at my desk, a smug look on his face. “Dr. Grant. You’ve been suspended pending investigation. Dr. Collins has asked me to take over your duties.” I stared at him coldly. “You two are the ones who broke the rules. What does that have to do with me?” Mark just smiled and pulled up the surgical records on the computer. “Dr. Grant, according to this, you were the lead surgeon for yesterday’s operation. I was merely an observer.” I stared at the screen, a sense of absurdity washing over me. To frame me, Amelia had actually altered the official surgical log. I took a step forward, my face grim, and reached out. Mark cried out and staggered back, clutching his face. “Dr. Grant, why did you hit me?” Amelia, who had just arrived at the doorway, threw the cup of hot coffee she was holding directly at me. “Ethan! How dare you lay a hand on him!” she screamed. “Apologize to Mark now!” My colleagues, drawn by the commotion, stared at me in shock. The hot liquid scalded my left cheek, mixing with the blood trickling down from my forehead. The burning on my face was nothing compared to the searing pain in my heart. Amelia didn’t even seem to see my injuries. She fussed over Mark, who was completely unscathed. “So you screw up in surgery and you can’t even own up to it? The record says you were the lead surgeon! Stop trying to drag Mark into this!” How laughable. This was the woman I had once loved with all my heart. “Dr. Collins,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “if my skills are so poor, how exactly did you get your position as department head?” I’d hit her where it hurt. Her eyes blazed with fury. “Ethan Grant! You better back off while I still have some shred of affection left for you!” I laughed coldly. “Affection? Don’t you think it’s a little late to be talking about affection? I’ve already—” “Enough!” The hospital director, Daniel Zheng, strode into the office, his face a thundercloud. “What do you think you’re doing, causing a scene like this in a clinic? Want the patients to have a good laugh? It looks to me like none of you want your jobs anymore!” Fearing for their positions, my colleagues quickly scattered. 3 Daniel stared at Amelia and me in silence for a few moments before turning his fury on me. “Ethan, as the lead surgeon, your failure during an operation resulted in a patient’s death. You are suspended, effective immediately, pending a full investigation! After the investigation, you will be terminated. Whether or not you will face legal charges will be determined at that time.” I stared at the director in disbelief. He knew perfectly well who the real lead surgeon was that night. Before I could speak, Amelia and my colleagues all voiced their support for the hospital’s decision, some even adding that a reckless doctor like me should be thrown in jail. Mark, with the air of a victor, drove the final nail in. “This isn’t your clinic anymore. What are you still doing here?” Amelia didn’t stop him. Instead, she ripped my ID badge from my coat, threw it on the floor, and ground it under her heel. I took one last, long look at the woman I had given my heart to, and at the colleagues I had once considered friends. Numb, I turned and walked away. I didn’t leave the hospital right away. I went down to the morgue to see my mother-in-law one last time. To tell her I was sorry, and to promise her that I would not take the fall for Amelia and Mark. When I got home, the apartment was a disaster. The air was thick with a sickeningly sweet, unfamiliar scent. All of my belongings had been thrown into trash bags. The various awards and certificates I had earned over the years were scattered on the floor, covered in footprints. And from the bedroom, I could hear unmistakable sounds. Rage erupted in me. I kicked the bedroom door open. “Get out!” The two figures on the bed jumped, startled. Mark pulled Amelia into his arms and had the audacity to glare at me. “Don’t you know how to knock?” Amelia pulled the sheets up, her face flushed with unsatisfied desire, her eyes full of resentment. “I’ve already decided to divorce you. What are you doing back here?” I laughed, a harsh, grating sound. This was my apartment. Why the hell should I give it up for this disgusting pair? Mark had certainly wasted no time making himself at home. His clothes were already hanging in the closet. I ripped his clothes from the hangers and threw them out the door. “Don’t forget, I bought this place. If anyone’s leaving, it’s you two!” Amelia’s voice was a shrill shriek. “What do you mean, your place? This is our marital home, which means half of it is mine! If you were any kind of man, you’d just give it to me! And don’t you dare go crying to my mother about this! I’ve earned this after all the years I put up with you!” Fury pulsed through me. How dare she even mention her mother? My eyes were red as I squeezed the words through clenched teeth. “You still have no idea who died in that surgery, do you?” Amelia scoffed. “She’s dead. Why should I care who she was?” She gestured to the door. “Now get out, unless you want to watch me and Mark get back to it?” Mark leaned in and deliberately nibbled on Amelia’s ear, a mocking expression on his face. “Actually, I think Dr. Grant can’t bear to divorce you. That’s why he’s making up excuses to stay.” Amelia playfully slapped his chest. “Too late for regrets. Does he really think he’s irreplaceable? I’ve already thought it through. I’ll divorce him first, then tell my mom. By then, it’ll be too late for her to object.” Her arrogance was so perfectly, tragically ironic. “She won’t be objecting,” I said, my voice flat. “She won’t get the chance.” Amelia’s smirk widened. “So, my mom finally sees you for who you really are and isn’t on your side anymore? That’s fantastic. I always said, what kind of mother sides with an outsider over her own daughter?” I pulled the entire file from my briefcase—the hospital admission forms, the surgical consent, the code blue report, the declaration of death—and threw it in her face. “Amelia, your mother won’t be objecting because the person who died on that operating table… was her.”
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