On the eve of getting our marriage license, I discovered my fiancé was hiding a girl in a private psychiatric facility. That day, I slapped the marriage application down on the table and gave him two choices. Either withdraw the application, or send her back to her hometown. Liam Vance chain-smoked all night at the training grounds. In the end, he picked up the pen and signed our marriage paperwork. But later, right in the middle of our wedding reception, a girl with scarred wrists suddenly rushed the stage. "Liam, my brother died because of you. Won't you even give me the last shred of your love?" The bridal bouquet I was holding dropped to the floor. He left me with nothing but the sight of his frantic, retreating back. I pulled the corsage off my dress and pressed my hand down on the officiant's notes. "If you walk out those doors today, our marriage certificate is void." His footsteps paused for a fraction of a second. But he still walked away. ... The music at the wedding venue ground to a halt. The whispers of the guests stabbed into my ears like needles. I stood frozen on the stage, staring at those empty double doors. My parents walked up and draped a coat over my shoulders. "Chloe, let's go home." I nodded and followed them off the stage. Passing the table where Liam's parents sat, I stopped. Liam's mother grabbed my hand, her eyes red. "Chloe, Liam didn't mean to do this. Don't blame him." I pulled my hand away and gave them a deep, respectful bow. "Mr. and Mrs. Vance, I'm sorry." After that, I didn't linger. I followed my parents out of the hall. That night, Liam didn't come home. The next day, he still didn't come back. On the third night, he returned, reeking of alcohol. He stood in the doorway, looking at me sitting on the sofa. "Why aren't you asleep yet?" I didn't answer. I just pointed to a document on the coffee table. "Take a look." He walked over and picked it up. It was an involuntary psychiatric hold and transfer order for Mia Lawson. Because she had self-harmed at a military officer's wedding, disrupting the peace, she had been transferred to a secure mental health facility. "Did you do this?" he asked, his voice cold. "It's protocol," I said flatly. He crumpled the document into a ball and hurled it fiercely at the ground. "Chloe, she's just a sick girl! Her brother died trying to save me. I owe her!" "What you owe her shouldn't be paid by me." "Can't you just try to understand where I'm coming from?" I looked at him and suddenly felt like I was looking at a stranger. We had known each other for ten years. He had never spoken to me in that tone before. I stood up and walked toward the bedroom. "Liam, let's separate for a while." I closed the door and listened to the sound of him smashing things in the living room. Lying in bed, I stayed awake the entire night. 2 When I woke up the next morning, Liam was already gone. He left a sticky note on the kitchen island. [I went to take care of Mia.] I threw the note into the trash and headed to the military hospital. I am the youngest Chief of Neurosurgery at the General Hospital. Today, I had an incredibly high-stakes, complex procedure. I was on my feet in the OR for thirteen hours. By the time I walked out, I was almost completely exhausted. A colleague handed me a bottle of water. "Dr. Evans, you broke your own record again." I managed a weak smile but didn't speak. Back in my office, I saw an insulated thermos sitting on my desk. Liam had brought it. I opened it; it was my favorite clam chowder. The soup was still warm. I put the lid back on and pushed it to the side. My phone rang. It was Liam. I didn't answer. He followed up with a text: [Did you eat the soup? I made it specially for you.] I replied with a single letter. [K.] He texted back almost immediately. [I'm sorry. I was impulsive yesterday.] [Chloe, we've been together for so long. Let's not throw it away over something this small.] I stared at that message and didn't reply for a very long time. That evening, I returned to the apartment we had bought to be our marital home. Someone was standing by the door. Mia Lawson. She was wearing hospital scrubs, her face deathly pale. She looked at me timidly. "Dr. Evans." "Why are you here?" I asked. "Liam got me out," she lowered her head. "He said the facility was too stifling." I pulled out my keys to unlock the door. "Do you need something?" "Could I... could I come inside and sit for a bit?" "No." I refused her flatly. She bit her lip, and tears began to fall. "Dr. Evans, I know you don't like me. But... I really have nowhere else to go." "Liam said he would take care of me, just like my brother took care of him." "I just want... to have a home." Looking at her, I only felt a deep sense of absurdity. "Your home shouldn't be my home." I pushed the door open to go inside, preparing to shut it behind me. Suddenly, she stuck her foot in the doorway, blocking the door, and then threw her entire body forward, crashing into the entryway. Her forehead hit the doorframe hard, instantly turning an angry shade of red. "Ah!" she cried out in pain. Liam rushed up the stairs from the landing. He shoved me aside and helped Mia up. "Mia, are you okay?" Mia trembled in his arms, crying and shaking her head. Liam looked up, glaring at me furiously. "Chloe, do you really have to be like this?" "Did I push her?" I asked. He didn't answer. He just held Mia, his eyes filled with profound disappointment. "She is my brother-in-arms' sister. He sacrificed himself for me. Now she's homeless and struggling with her mental health." "I just want to let her stay here temporarily. Is that really so hard for you to accept?" "This is supposed to be our home," I reminded him. "It's just temporary!" he emphasized, his voice rising. I stared at him, unable to form a single word. He carried Mia past me, walking straight into our house. Walking straight into our bedroom. 3 Mia moved into the master bedroom. Liam didn't leave that night. He also slept in the master bedroom, claiming he was "afraid she might have an episode in the middle of the night." I locked myself in the guest room, listening through the wall to the muffled sounds of his comforting whispers and her quiet sobbing. The next day, I went to work as usual. When I came back, the house had changed. My favorite landscape painting in the living room had been taken down, replaced by a generic oil painting. The orchids I had carefully cultivated for three years were gone, replaced by a pot of lucky bamboo. Mia was in the kitchen, cooking, wearing my pajamas. When she saw me, she smiled somewhat sheepishly. "Dr. Evans, you're back. I made dinner. I hope you like it." I stared at the pajamas she was wearing. My mother had sewn them by hand for me. I hadn't even worn them once. I walked over and pointed to where the painting used to be. "Who told you to touch that?" "It... it was Liam," she said timidly. "He said the colors in the landscape were too depressing and not good for my recovery." "And the flowers?" "That was Liam too... He said orchids are too delicate and I wouldn't know how to care for them." I stepped right in front of her. "Take them off." She froze. "What?" "Take off the pajamas you're wearing right now." Her face instantly flushed crimson, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Dr. Evans, I'm sorry. I just thought they were pretty... I didn't mean anything by it." Liam walked out of the hallway. "Enough, Chloe!" He walked over to Mia, shielding her behind him. "It's just a pair of pajamas. Are you really going to make a huge deal out of this?" "If she likes them, let her wear them. You have a whole closet full of clothes, you're going to miss one set of pajamas?" I looked at his face, so full of righteous indignation. The very last shred of feeling I had for him evaporated. "Liam, tell her to leave." "Absolutely not," he answered with ironclad certainty. "Fine. Then I'll leave." I turned around, went into the guest room, and started gathering my most precious medical journals and handwritten research notes. I stacked my notes on the desk and pulled out my suitcase to start packing. Just as I turned around, Mia walked in carrying a glass of water. "Dr. Evans, have some water. Please don't be mad." She held the glass out toward me. I didn't take it. Her hand suddenly "slipped." The entire glass of water splashed directly onto my handwritten notes. The water instantly soaked into the pages. My brain let out a loud, ringing buzz. I rushed over, grabbed the notebook, and frantically tried to dab up the water with tissues. But it was useless. The ink was already bleeding into illegible, blurry smears. I looked up at Mia, who wore an expression of sheer panic. She kept apologizing: "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Dr. Evans, I didn't mean to..." Liam walked in then. Seeing the scene, he frowned, pulled Mia toward him, and inspected her hands. "Did the water burn you?" Mia shook her head, crying even harder. "Liam, I ruined Dr. Evans's things..." Liam glanced at the soaked notebook. "It's just a notebook. I'll buy you a new one to replace it." He said dismissively, "Mia didn't do it on purpose. Can you stop holding grudges over every little thing?" I held the ruined notebook, my hands shaking uncontrollably. My mentor had left that notebook to me before he died. It was the only one of its kind in the entire world. I looked at Liam. "You'll replace it?" "How exactly are you going to replace it?" He choked on his words, his face flushing with embarrassment. "Chloe, stop being so unreasonable." I laughed. I tossed the ruined notebook onto the floor, turned around, pulled out my suitcase, and started packing my clothes. Liam stood in the doorway, watching me. "What are you trying to pull now?" "I told you, I'm leaving." I didn't look back. "Over something this trivial, you're running away from home?" "Chloe, can you please act like an adult?" I ignored him and kept packing. Mia cried softly beside him. "It's all my fault. Liam, please don't fight with Dr. Evans..." Liam sighed and patted her shoulder to comfort her. "It's not your fault. She's just being completely irrational." I zipped up my suitcase and stood up. As I walked past Liam, I didn't even glance at him. At the front door, I stopped. "Liam, this is the choice you made." With that, I rolled my suitcase out the door, leaving behind the place I once thought would be my forever home. That was the first time I had ever walked out. Three days later, Liam found the hotel I was staying at. He brought my favorite pastries from a high-end bakery, and a beautifully wrapped notebook. "Chloe, stop being mad. Come home with me." "I had someone restore that book. Look, it's as good as new." I opened the notebook. The handwriting inside was forged, and much of the complex medical data didn't match up at all. I handed the notebook back to him. "Liam, please leave." The smile on his face froze. "Chloe, how long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?" "I already sent her away to a facility. What more do you want?" "Can you please stop making a mountain out of a molehill?" I looked at him straight in the eyes. "I never make mountains out of molehills." I closed the door in his face. He stood outside for a long time, but eventually, he left. 4 After that, we didn't speak for a month in a cold war. He didn't come looking for me, and I didn't go back. Until news broke from the western border. A massive earthquake had struck. The General Hospital needed to assemble an emergency medical response team to head to the disaster zone. I was appointed as the team leader. When the roster was finalized, I saw Liam's name. He was the overall commanding officer of the military rescue operation. We met up on the tarmac at the airbase. He looked surprised when he saw me, then walked over. "What are you doing here?" "I'm a doctor," I said. He looked at me, hesitating as if he wanted to say more. In the end, he only said two words. "Stay safe." I nodded. The transport plane took off, heading for the disaster zone. The situation on the ground was far more catastrophic than we had imagined. Rubble and collapsed buildings were everywhere, and the number of casualties was staggering. We immediately threw ourselves into the rescue effort. I performed five back-to-back surgeries in a makeshift, poorly-lit medical tent. It got dark, and the rain was still pouring down. A nurse ran in, frantic. "Dr. Evans, this is bad! The blood bank in Sector A is critically low, and a shipment of specialized serum got stranded by a mudslide on the mountain road." That serum was desperately needed for a critically injured soldier. Without it, he wouldn't survive the night. "I'll go get it," I said. "It's too dangerous, Dr. Evans. The roads have collapsed." "I am a doctor." I stripped off my surgical scrubs, threw on a rain poncho, grabbed a med kit, and sprinted out into the storm. Liam's unit was responsible for perimeter security. I found him. "I need to go retrieve the serum. I need a Humvee and two men." He looked at me, his brow furrowing deeply. "No. It's too dangerous." "The patient can't wait." We stared each other down in the pouring rain. Finally, he compromised. "I'll go with you." "No, you need to stay here and command the operation." He assigned two of his best men to escort me. We bounced violently along the treacherous, muddy mountain road in the military Humvee. Suddenly, Liam's anxious voice crackled over the radio. "Chloe, what's your location?" "Almost there." "Turn back immediately! There's a high risk of a secondary landslide!" Before the words even finished echoing in the cabin, I felt the vehicle lurch violently. The mountain had started shaking again. "Quick! Turn around!" I yelled to the driver. But as the Humvee rounded a bend, the entire road ahead of us crumbled and slid into the valley below. We were trapped. And the radio went dead. We had no choice but to wait for rescue. I stared at the empty med kit, my heart burning with anxiety about the serum. Every second felt like an eternity. Suddenly, I heard the heavy thwop-thwop of helicopter blades. Liam had personally led a Blackhawk team to extract us. The chopper hovered over us in the storm, lowering a rescue basket. They hoisted the serum up first. Then, me and the two soldiers. As soon as my boots hit the ground at the temporary command post, I sprinted to deliver the serum to the surgical tent. Liam followed closely behind me. "Are you hurt?" "I'm fine." He grabbed my arm tightly. "Chloe, you are never allowed to take a risk like that again." I looked at him and said nothing. Just then, a communications officer ran up, saluting breathlessly. "Reporting, Commander! We just got word that a civilian snuck into the rear supply convoy, and now she's missing on the road!" "A civilian? Who?" Liam demanded. "Her name... her name is Mia Lawson." The color drained instantly from Liam's face. He let go of my arm and turned to run. "Liam!" I yelled after him. "I have to go save her." He didn't even look back. "The situation out there is incredibly dangerous, you can't go!" "She came here for me." With that, he grabbed a squad and vanished into the wall of rain. I stood frozen in the mud, my body feeling like ice. A colleague walked over and patted my shoulder sympathetically. "Dr. Evans, try not to worry. Commander Vance is highly experienced. He'll be okay." I nodded slowly and turned back toward the surgical tent. The wounded were still waiting for me. I scrubbed back in, put on a fresh gown and gloves, but my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to compartmentalize and calm down. I picked up the scalpel. At that exact moment, the earth violently bucked again. The heavy steel support beam above the tent ceiling broke loose and plummeted downward. Pure instinct took over; I shoved the nurse and the patient on the operating table out of the way. But I didn't have time to dive clear myself. The steel beam crashed heavily onto my right arm. Blinding, white-hot agony shot through me. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness. I don't know how long I was out. When I woke up, I was lying in a sterile hospital bed. My right arm was heavily wrapped in thick layers of gauze. I tried to twitch my fingers. Nothing happened. I felt absolutely no sensation. Just a terrifying, heavy numbness and a deep, pulsing ache. The Director of the hospital was standing by my bed. He looked at me, his expression grave. "My hand... how bad is it?" I forced the words out, my throat raspy. The Director was silent for a long time. "Severe comminuted fracture in the right forearm, with catastrophic nerve damage." My mind went completely blank. Catastrophic nerve damage. That meant I would never be able to hold a scalpel again. I was a neurosurgeon. My hands were my entire life, my entire identity. And now, my life as I knew it was over. I stared blankly at the ceiling as tears streamed silently down my face. The Director let out a heavy sigh. "I've contacted the best specialists in the country. We are going to do everything we possibly can." I closed my eyes. "Director. I want to submit my resignation and request a medical discharge." "Chloe, don't make any rash decisions right now." "I've made up my mind." My career as a surgeon ended the year I turned twenty-eight. I lay in that hospital bed for a week. Liam didn't visit me a single time. I heard from colleagues that he had found Mia. She only had a few minor scrapes, but was severely spooked. He had been staying with her at the rear recovery camp the entire time. The day I was discharged, I processed all the paperwork myself. I went back to the military housing complex. The apartment was completely empty. All of Mia's things were still there. My belongings had been neatly packed into boxes and stacked in the corner of the living room. Next to the boxes was a sticky note. [Let's talk when you get back.] It was Liam's handwriting. I walked over and unzipped my suitcase. Inside were all my clothes and personal items. Resting right on top was a ring box. It contained my engagement ring. I took it out and placed it gently on the table. Then, I pulled two documents out of my bag. One was my approved medical discharge and resignation from the military medical corps. The other was a formal Declaration of Broken Engagement. I signed my name at the bottom. Chloe Evans. I lined up the two documents and the engagement ring side-by-side on the table. After finishing, I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and took one last, long look around the apartment. Then, I walked out the door, closing it firmly behind me, and never looked back. This time, I didn't go to a hotel. I booked the earliest possible flight and left the city entirely.
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