He Gave My Promotion to His Childhood Sweetheart

I shot him a sidelong look.

"Are you an idiot? Why do you keep asking why? I mean it exactly the way I said it. I'm not keeping the baby."

"That baby belongs to both of us. What gives you the right to get rid of it?"

My head snapped toward him.

"So you do know the baby is yours. You didn't hold back one bit when you shoved me earlier!"

He froze, his expression turning awkward.

"I— I was panicking. I was afraid you'd do something you'd regret."

"Afraid I'd do something wrong, or afraid your precious little sweetheart would get hurt? Isaac, you didn't ask me a single question before you pinned the blame on me. In your heart, am I just some vicious woman who frames people?"

His face tightened, and no words came.

I zipped the suitcase shut and dragged it toward the door.

He threw out an arm to block me, his face all long-suffering patience, as if I were the one being unreasonable.

"Isn't this enough? You spent three years trying to conceive, swallowed all those bitter medicines, and now you can bring yourself to just throw it away?"

"If you don't want it, why should I keep it?"

I laughed, and the laugh turned to tears.

"Isaac, you know exactly how many years I waited for that Chief Physician title, everything I gave up for it. And you still handed it to Joyce, who isn't worth one finger of mine."

"You know exactly how hard it was for me to have this child, and you still shoved me aside with your own hands, not caring whether the baby lived or died, all for Joyce. Since you care about her that much, I'll let you have her."

"I already sent you the divorce agreement, Isaac. Let's part on good terms."

I opened the door and walked out without looking back.

Isaac's furious voice came from behind me.

"Marion, do you have to make this so ugly? Have you even thought about it? A twice-divorced woman who's had an abortion, who's ever going to marry her? Who's going to support you?"

"Don't think a little medical skill means you can look down on the hospital. You want to quit? One word from me, and I'd like to see who dares to take you on!"

The last bit of hope in me shattered completely.

I turned back and looked at him.

"A woman doesn't prove her worth by marrying. I have two hands and two feet. I don't need a man to support me."

"And I forgot to tell you. I already have an offer from Puren Hospital. I start this afternoon."

The expression on his face froze, then cracked apart, piece by piece.

I turned away without emotion and stepped into the elevator.

At Puren, the Director of Puren Hospital walked me through the onboarding himself. It was done in under ten minutes.

The Chief of Cardiology had a private suite of an office, the floor-to-ceiling windows clean and full of light.

A pot of gardenias sat on the brand-new desk, a faint fragrance drifting at the tip of my nose.

Everything was a fresh start.

In my first two days I performed five surgeries, two of them heart transplants.

The patients recovered well, with no complications.

The way my colleagues looked at me shifted from that first appraising scrutiny to genuine respect.

The families were moved to tears, and even brought me a banner and letters of thanks.

My fifth day on the job was also the day I'd scheduled the abortion.

I was lying on the table, about to be put under, when the door of the operating room was shoved open.

Isaac hauled me up, his face frantic.

"Marion, wait. Get to the cardiac surgery suite, now!"