My husband’s childhood friend, Nancy Price, got distracted on her phone during her nurse shift and gave me the wrong IV.

I was two months pregnant by then and I lost my baby.

My husband Edwin Andrews, who was also my attending doctor, covered for her. “The miscarriage was due to the patient hiding her allergy history. It had nothing to do with the nurse’s procedure,” he falsely testified.

Nancy faced no consequences. Instead, the hospital accused me of stirring problems and made me pay for the entire medical review instead.

Edwin told me, “We can always try for another child, but if Nancy gets a black mark on her record, her whole career will be ruined.”

I remained silent at his response, no shed of tears, no screaming. Then, I calmly asked for a divorce.

At that, Edwin thought I was just being dramatic. “You love me too much to actually leave. Stop acting out. In the end, you’ll only embarrass yourself.”

What he didn’t know was that tucked between the diagnostic report and the discharge summary he’d just signed… was the divorce agreement I had prepared long ago.

——

Edwin rubbed his temples, looking impatient. “Stop making a scene at the hospital! I’ll take you home.”

He stood, shrugging off his white coat.

I ignored him and turned toward the door. The moment I pulled it open, I ran straight into someone standing outside.

It was Nancy.

She was holding a steaming bowl of soup and smiling sweetly. “Ms. Robertson, I made this for you.”

I glanced at it—shrimp and crab floated in the broth. My admission papers clearly stated I was allergic to seafood.

Losing my baby apparently hadn’t been enough—she seemed so eager on killing me.

I said nothing to that and walk past her. All of the sudden, Nancy stumbled sideways and spilled the scalding soup all over me.

She let out a sharp “Oh no!” and looked as though she might cry.

Before I could react, Edwin—still half out of his coat—rushed to her side. He took her hands in his.

“How could you be so careless?” he asked.

Sniffling, Nancy murmured, “I just thought Ms. Robertson needed something nourishing after the miscarriage, but she seemed not liking it and—”

Her gaze flicked toward the steaming mess on the floor and she stopped mid-sentence.

Edwin’s glared at me and clenched his jaw. “Sammy! You’re unbelievable.”

As I watched him hurry Nancy off toward the medical room, my chest felt cold and hollow.

When I had been bleeding out from the miscarriage, he hadn’t looked half as worried. Now, all he saw were Nancy’s reddened fingers—never the blistered skin on my arm, already breaking out in a rash from the seafood.

I took a taxi to another hospital’s emergency department.

The doctor frowned at the bruised, vein-marked mess of my arms, unable to find a spot for an IV. In the end, he gave me only two tubes of ointment to apply externally.

Just weeks earlier, when I’d been too sick from morning sickness to keep food down, I’d gone to Edwin’s hospital for a nutrient drip.

Nancy as the intern nurse, had used me as practice, jabbing both arms more than thirty times without finding a vein.

When I’d asked for a more experienced nurse, Edwin had scolded me. “If you can’t handle a little pain, how will you ever give birth?”

By the time I got home that night, it was nearly eleven.

There was a message from Edwin on my phone.

[Working late tonight. Not coming home.]

I opened my social feed on a whim.

Sure enough—half an hour earlier, Nancy had posted a photo with a caption: [Hope I’ll always be the one my big brother cherishes most!]

In the picture, Edwin was carefully tending to her hand.

Below, he’d commented: [If I don’t cherish you, who else would I do?]

When they were much younger, Nancy had been Edwin’s neighbor back in his hometown, the daughter of a family friend.

Three months ago, Nancy moved to West Lake to be near him.

He’d placed her in his own department for her internship—and even gave her the single dormitory room assigned to him by the hospital.

Lately, I’d seen that my usually cold, reserved husband also has a gentle and considerate side.

He would drape his coat over Nancy when she nodded off at the nurses’ station. He would pick the cilantro out of her meals without her asking.

Once, she casually mentioned wanting that viral apple tea from Southside and even if he finished surgery late, he’d take a detour across town just to buy it for her.

In contrast, he was far less attentive to me, his wife.

If I stayed up all night working on design drafts and complained about my back aching, he’d tell me to “get used to it.”

In two years of marriage, he had never remembered that I hated scallions. When I invited him to see a new film, he always had an excuse.

I told him I was unhappy and... he called me petty.

“Nancy’s like my little sister. Stop thinking so negatively!”

He even gave her a spare key to our apartment.

One afternoon, I came home from grocery shopping to find Nancy in my study, doodling all over my design work.

Edwin just shrugged. “They’re only sketches. Just draw them again.”

Last month, I found out I was pregnant.

When I went to the hospital for a follow-up, Nancy got my appointment time wrong. I ended up fasting for five hours and finally fainted from low blood sugar.

When I came to, I couldn’t help but complain.

Edwin defended her immediately. “Nancy’s busy, she just forgot. You’re the one with poor health—so why are 'you' blaming her?”

Five years of giving him my whole heart had taught me one thing—some people’s hearts will never warm, no matter how much you try.

That night, I messaged my old college senior overseas. “I’ll take the job at your company. I can start next month.”

The next morning, a breakfast delivery arrived.

Edwin called, his voice softer than usual. “I know you’re upset. I was too harsh last night. Just rest at home for a while.”

After hanging up, I poured the porridge down the sink. It was full of scallions.

I wasn’t supposed to go out so soon after the miscarriage, but the most urgent thing now was getting my passport in order.

By the time I left the immigration office, it was midday.

Dizzy from the morning’s errands, I was ready to go home and sleep when a message from Edwin popped up.

[Come to my office. Now.]

I thought maybe he had found the divorce papers I’d hidden. Fine. I’d explain it to his face.

I turned the car toward the hospital.

In the ward corridor, the nurses glanced at me with open disdain, whispering behind cupped hands.

“She’s got some nerve, still clinging to Dr. Andrews.”

“Word is, she demanded a huge payout and said she’d keep causing problems until she got it.”

“Bet the baby wasn’t even his. Probably got rid of it on purpose to frame Nancy. What a scheme.”

I clenched my fists and ignored those insults.

Edwin and I had kept our marriage secret. Only our families and a few close friends knew.

When I registered my pregnancy at his hospital, he insisted on keeping my identity private, worried that colleagues would think he was abusing his position to help me.

I knocked on his office door, but I got no answer. So, I pushed it open to find the place in disarray—papers scattered across the floor, drawers hanging open.

Out of habit, I began to tidy up, but then heard a startled cry behind me.

“Oh my God! What have you done to Doctor Andrews’s office?”

I turned. Nancy stood in the doorway, a tray of medical vials in her hands. She looked like she had caught a thief.

I opened my mouth to explain, but she was already lunging toward me.

I tried to defend myself. In the struggle, the medicine tray in Nancy’s hands tipped over. Glass vials shattered across the floor and expensive liquid splattered in every direction.

By then, a small crowd of nurses had gathered outside the door. Two of them ran to call security; the rest stayed to watch, whispering just loud enough for me to hear.

“She couldn’t find Dr. Andrews, so she decided to steal something? Pathetic.”

“Doing things like this at her age… no wonder she’ll never have kids.”

“It’s people like her that ruin the doctor–patient relationship for everyone.”

“No wonder Dr. Andrews can’t stand her. She should be blacklisted from the hospital.”

I was shaking with rage. “Edwin asked me to come! The office was already like this when I got here!”

Someone scoffed.

“At least try making your lies more convincing. Dr. Andrews has been in surgery all morning—he hasn’t even stepped out of the surgery theater. How could he have invited you?”

“You definitely knew he wasn’t here. That's why you came to steal something!”

Anger burned in my chest, but I forced myself to keep calm. “I’m not arguing with you. You can ask Edwin when he gets here!”

I began walking towards the door, but Nancy grabbed my arm.

She pointed at the broken vials on the floor. “These are all imported. One of them costs over ten thousand. You’ll have to pay for them.”

I stared at her. “You're the one who dropped those bottles!”

Two nurses jumped in immediately. “We saw you knock them over with our own eyes. You’re not leaving until you pay.”

Someone had already pulled out their phone and started livestreaming. “Everyone, take a look at how outrageous this troublemaker have become.”

Nancy and a few others blocked me from leaving Edwin’s office. I had no way out.

Just then, a cleaner came over, pushing a bucket of dirty water, curious about the commotion.

A gleam flashed in Nancy’s eyes. She shoved me hard. I was already weak and the push sent me stumbling backward. I fell to the floor, tipping over the bucket as I fell.

The icy-cold water poured down over me, the foul stench assaulting my nostrils. Laughter Instantly erupted around us.

Then a deep, stern male voice rang from behind the crowd. “What’s going on here?!”

The nurses stepped aside, revealing Edwin.

His eyes soon fell on my dishelved looks.

His brows knitted tightly. He took half a step back before his face hardened. “Who told you to come here?”

The chill in my chest sank deeper than the cold soaking my clothes.

I had just miscarried. I was the one being humiliated. Yet he didn’t ask why—he only demanded to know why I was there.

Nancy spoke first. “I caught Ms. Robertson rummaging through your office. When I tried to stop her, she attacked me…”

Edwin glanced past her, his expression darkening. “Sammy, who told you to come into my office?”

I pushed myself to my feet, facing the accusing stares around me. “You texted me to come.”