I was twenty-four when I performed my first solo craniotomy. By twenty-seven, I was the youngest attending neurosurgeon in the country’s most prestigious hospital. They called me a prodigy. Now, those hands were wrapped in thick, white gauze, resting heavily on the coarse hospital sheets.
The doctor’s words from an hour ago still echoed in the hollow chamber of my mind.
“The nerve damage is extensive, Dr. Jones. We did what we could to repair the tendons, but… the tremors will likely be permanent. You will retain motor function for daily tasks, but surgery? I’m afraid that part of your life is over.”
I drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain medication pulling me under. Then, I heard voices.
“Are you seriously letting your wife send my brother to jail, Aiden?? You can’t make it happen, Aiden,” she hissed. “You can’t let him rot in a cell.”
“Amber, keep your voice down,” came the deep, familiar baritone of my husband. “You know what your brother did. He stabbed her, Amber. He destroyed her hands. The police are already involved.”
“Well, she did it to herself!” Amber spat back. I could practically hear her foot stomping. “She provoked him! She stole that surgical case from me, Aiden! It should have been me leading that team. It should have been my promotion. Ysabel knew I wanted it, and she took it anyway just to spite me.”
“He didn’t mean to do it,” Amber sobbed, her voice turning soft, manipulative. “He just meant to scare her. It was an accident. It all happened because she fought back. If she had just listened…”
“I know, I know,” Aiden sighed. I heard the rustle of fabric. “I’ll see what I can do. I can try to talk to the DA, maybe get the charges reduced to assault instead of attempted murder.”
“No,” Amber said, her voice turning hard. “That’s not enough. You have to choose, Aiden. Me or her.”
The silence that followed was deafening. The heart monitor beeped steadily next to me, a cruel metronome counting down the seconds of my marriage.
“You know I can’t just—”
“Then we should end this affair together!” Amber interrupted, her voice rising again. “I’m tired of being your secret, Aiden! I’m tired of hiding in the shadows when I don’t deserve this anymore. I love you, and I know you love me. But if you’re going to side with her against my family… if you want to be the dutiful husband to the woman who ruined my career… then let’s just stop.”
The word hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
“Amber, please,” Aiden’s voice cracked. “Don’t say that. I don’t want to lose you. You know why I married her,” Aiden whispered. The tenderness in his voice—a tone he used to use with me—shattered whatever was left of my heart.
“It was my mother’s dying wish. She made me promise on her deathbed. Ysabel saved her life during that first stroke, and my mother felt we owed her. I shouldn’t have made that deal. I shouldn’t have married her out of obligation.”
I felt like I was bleeding out, but there was no wound on my body this time.
“I regret it every day,” he continued. "Because it has always been you, Amber. Always.”
“Then prove it,” she demanded again. “Save my brother. Don’t let her ruin my family like she ruined my career.”
“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay.”
Then, silence. Wet sounds. The unmistakable sound of kissing. My husband, comforting the sister of the man who had maimed me.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry out. The tears on my cheeks went cold. Something inside me, something soft and hopeful that I had nurtured for five years of marriage, withered and died.
I closed my eyes and feigned sleep.
An hour later, the door creaked open.
I waited a moment before fluttering my eyes open. Aiden was sitting in the chair beside the bed, still in his charcoal suit, looking every bit the grieving, concerned husband. He reached out and gently touched my shoulder.
“Ysabel?” he whispered. “You’re awake. Thank God. How are you feeling?” He leaned in, his brow furrowed with worry. “The doctor told me… about your hands. I am so sorry, Ysabel. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
“My career is over, Aiden,” I said, my voice flat. “Antonio took everything from me.”
Aiden flinched at the name. He pulled back slightly, running a hand through his hair.
“About that,” I said, testing him. “I want to file the charges immediately. I want him in prison for life. You’re the best lawyer in the city. You’ll represent me, won’t you? We need to ensure he never touches a knife again.”
“Ysabel, listen,” he started, his voice taking on that smooth, persuasive cadence he used in the courtroom. “I’ve been thinking. And I’ve been looking at the situation from a legal standpoint.”
“And?”
“We shouldn’t file the lawsuit.”
I stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“Think about it,” he said quickly, reaching for my bandaged hand but stopping just short of touching it. “It would be a huge scandal. ‘Prodigy Surgeon Maimed in Brawl.’ The press would have a field day. They would dig into everything. They might even twist it to say you provoked him, or that it was a lovers' quarrel gone wrong. It will taint your reputation.”
“My reputation?” I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “Aiden, he stabbed me. I can’t operate anymore. What reputation am I saving?”
“Your dignity!” he insisted, his voice rising. “People can’t know you were taken out by a drunk in a parking lot. It makes you look weak. And besides… Antonio is mentally unstable. Sending him to jail won’t fix your hands, Ysabel. It will just drag us through the mud for years. Amber… Amber is devastated too. She’s willing to settle this quietly.”
“Quietly?” I felt the rage bubbling up, hot and acidic. “He ended my life, Aiden! He took the only thing I loved!”
“You have me!” Aiden snapped, his patience snapping. He stood up, pacing the small room. “Why isn’t that enough? Why do you have to be so vindictive? Be sane for once, Ysabel. Look at the bigger picture. If you sue him, you destroy Amber’s life too. Do you really want to be that person?”
I looked at him. The realization settled over me like a shroud.
“You’re refusing to take the case?” I asked softly.
“I’m refusing to let you make a mistake you’ll regret,” he said, smoothing his tie, thinking he had won. “I’m doing this for you, Ysabel. I won’t handle a case that destroys our privacy.”
“Fine,” I said.
Aiden let out a breath of relief. He smiled, that charming, winning smile. “Good. I knew you’d see reason. You just need to rest. We’ll get through this.”
“But,” I interrupted, my voice cutting through the air like the scalpel he refused to acknowledge. “If you don’t want to handle that case, you have to handle another one for me.”
“Of course,” he said. “Anything. What is it? A medical leave dispute? Insurance?”
I looked him dead in the eye. “No. Our divorce.”
