Left Bleeding and Pregnant for Her Band-Aid

In my last life, I fell for every word out of Ryan's mouth.

To save his shot at attending physician, I volunteered to take the fall for his medical malpractice case.

My license was revoked. I went from being a surgeon to being a housewife trapped in his family's home, wasting ten years of my life chained to a kitchen stove.

I thought my sacrifice would earn me his gratitude for the rest of our lives.

Turns out, he'd been sleeping with that doe-eyed little nurse, Lily, for God knows how long.

When years of exhaustion finally caught up with me and my heart gave out, I collapsed on the freezing basement floor.

My husband Ryan was upstairs, arms wrapped around Lily, sleeping in the master bedroom we'd bought with my dowry.

"That bitch is finally kicking the bucket. Once she croaks, this house is ours."

That was the last thing I heard before I closed my eyes.

"Chloe? Chloe! Are you even listening to me?"

A rough shove to my shoulder. I snapped my eyes open, gasping for air, cold sweat soaking through my back.

The sharp tang of disinfectant flooded my nostrils. Fluorescent lights stabbed into my eyes, and for a second, the world tilted.

I'm not dead?

I stared at Ryan standing in front of me in his white coat, brows knitted tight. Behind him, Lily hovered with red-rimmed eyes.

The calendar on the wall read clear as day: May 12th, 1998.

I'd come back.

Back to that day — when Lily administered the wrong medication to a patient, triggering a severe allergic reaction, and Ryan was pressuring me to cover for her.

"Chloe, I know it's a lot to ask." Ryan dropped his voice to that tender tone, the one that used to make me cave every single time. "But Lily's still young. If she gets hit with a malpractice charge, her entire career is over. You're a senior surgeon, the department head values you — just take this one. A few months' suspension at most."

He paused, then took my hand. "For our future. Please. I'm begging you."

Right on cue, Lily started crying. Her voice came out thin and shaky, like a thread about to snap. "I'm so sorry, Chloe. I'm just so stupid... If Ryan can't help me, I might as well be dead..."

Watching the two of them perform their perfectly rehearsed little act, my stomach turned.

In my last life, that phrase — "for our future" — had been all it took. I'd walked into the department head's office like a fool and taken the blame for everything.

And what did I get? I got to die alone on a basement floor while the two of them laughed together upstairs.

I pulled my hand free and wiped it on my white coat like I was brushing off something filthy.

"Why the hell should I?" I looked at him, ice cold.

Ryan froze. He clearly hadn't expected a refusal. "Chloe, don't be unreasonable. Lily, she—"

"She's young, she can't have her life ruined — so I deserve to have mine ruined instead?" I cut him off. My voice wasn't loud.

Every pair of eyes at the nurses' station swiveled toward us.

"She can't even get basic pharmacology right. Someone this reckless with patients' lives has no business being anywhere near a hospital."

I turned to Ryan. "And you. As her supervising physician, you want to cover for her? Fine. Go take the fall yourself. Dragging your wife into it — what kind of man does that?"

"Chloe! When did you become so heartless!" Ryan's face flushed red.

"Cleaning up your mess is called being a good wife, but refusing makes me heartless? That's a neat little trick, Ryan."

Looking at that two-faced mask he wore so well, I calmly unclipped the ID badge from my chest and slapped it down on the counter.

"Ryan, I want a divorce. Take your precious little nurse and get the hell out of my life.