But five years of coaxing him hadn't bought a single last glance at my child.
Which mattered more was no longer a question. The verdict was already in.
So why keep playing the fool, debasing myself to beg for some scrap of love too small to matter?
Let the cold wind clear my head. Let it knock the lovesickness out of me.
After Dr. Lawrence left, I dialed a number.
"Dad. Chester's invitation to the international medical forum—cancel it."
Then I called a lawyer to draw up the divorce papers.
When I went to the nurses' station to borrow the printer, I heard a young one pointing at a video, squealing.
"God, Dr. Simmons is so handsome when he smiles! My heart just melted!"
Another nurse scoffed.
"You could rip your heart out and it wouldn't matter. He doesn't smile at his own wife. That smile's only for the intern and her mother."
"His wife hemorrhaged, they're trying to save her, and you know what he said?"
"What?"
"See for yourself."
I took a couple of steps closer.
Close enough to finally see the video clearly.
One look, and the blood in my veins turned to ice.
"There are doctors in the ER, aren't there? What do you need me for? She got rid of the baby herself. A little suffering will teach her a lesson."
In the video, Chester gave a long look toward the ER, then turned and walked into Lois Delgado's room.
A nurse asked him to sign for my emergency treatment. He refused without a flicker of feeling.
"She can sign it herself when she wakes up. I'll cover the bill, but keep her away from me."
The footage cut to him sitting at the bedside, peeling fruit for Claire and her mother.
Then carefully feeding the cut pieces to Lois.
I couldn't help thinking of last year, when I'd broken my right arm and couldn't manage on my own. I'd leaned into him, playful, asking him to feed me, to peel my fruit.
He'd said:
"My hands are for surgery, not for spoon-feeding you and peeling fruit."
The bleakness of it swallowed me whole, drained every ounce of strength from my body.
I swayed, stumbled, and the sound startled the young nurses.
They turned, saw the white of my face, and scrambled to lock their phones.
"Aria, are you all right? We're sorry, we shouldn't have been gossiping about you—"
I gave a bitter little laugh.
"You didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing to apologize for."
The one who owed me an apology was Chester.
Watching me print the divorce agreement, the nurses tried to talk me out of it.
"Don't! If you actually divorce him, won't that just hand the intern exactly what she wants? We all know she's been deliberately throwing herself at Dr. Simmons, but he's never once given her the time of day—"
Is that so?
If he truly hadn't, why treat another woman's mother better than he ever treated me?
I picked up the pen, signed my name stroke by careful stroke, and went to cardiothoracic surgery to find Chester.
But he wasn't there.
A doctor from his department wouldn't quite meet my eyes.
"Dr. Simmons took some personal time off. Maybe come back tomorrow?"
On the way back to my room, I overheard two patients griping.
"What's the deal with Dr. Simmons? My dad finally gets bumped up for surgery, and now the man takes the day off!"
"Tell me about it. Rotten luck. My nephew's surgery was supposed to be today too, and it got pushed."
I don't remember how I made it back to my room.
By the time I came to, I'd already pulled up Claire Delgado's social media.
Of course. Chester had taken half a day off to be with her.
In one of the photos she'd posted, the hand holding the cake—I'd know it anywhere.
Five years together, and Chester had never once taken a single day off for me.
He held his work above every holiday, every anniversary we had.
And now, for Claire Delgado's birthday, he hadn't just taken time off. He'd pushed back two surgeries.
The last thread of feeling in my heart dissolved completely.
Early the next morning, after finishing the discharge paperwork, I went to his office to leave the divorce agreement.
