He Realized My Worth, But I Chose Saving Lives

Noah jumped up from his chair when he heard Sabrina mention decorating.

"Aunt Sabby, let me help! I'm good at decorating," he said eagerly, trailing her into the kitchen.

I sat there watching them, my hands resting idly in my lap.

They looked so happy, so in sync. It was like I wasn't even in the same room. More than that—I felt like an outsider. An uninvited guest who'd somehow crashed their perfect little moment.

"Dr. Smith," Sabrina said as she walked back into the dining room, her tone warm and sweet. She set a plate in front of me with a flourish. "This is black truffle steak from a Michelin-starred restaurant. Please, give it a try."

I picked up my fork and tasted it. It was exquisite, no denying that. Every bite was perfectly balanced, the flavors delicate yet rich.

Over the years, Michael's tastes had evolved—clearly thanks to Sabrina's influence.

Everything about him had grown more sophisticated and polished, from the restaurants he chose to the wines he paired with meals.

I couldn't help but think back to our first year of marriage.

Back then, we mostly survived on takeout.

We'd try a local steakhouse or a Chinese bistro on special occasions, but we rarely splurged on fine dining. It wasn't until Sabrina had a stomachache from skipping dinner while practicing piano with Noah that Michael started interested in cooking and gourmet food.

That was just how he was—talented, meticulous, always striving for perfection.

Whatever he set his mind to, he mastered.

I still remember that night. While he was caring for her, I called him from the hospital. I'd just finished a grueling shift in the ER, and I asked him to bring me something to eat.

He'd agreed quickly, almost absentmindedly, before hanging up.

But he never came.

I ended up working through the night, completing an eight-hour surgery on an empty stomach. By the time it was over, I was lightheaded and weak. I fainted in the hallway, and when I woke up, the doctor told me I was two months pregnant.

A boy. But I lost him when I fell.

That same night, Michael was in a VIP room, fussing over Sabrina. I learned this later, of course. At the time, I told myself it was just bad timing, that he couldn't have known, but the bitterness never really left me.

Every time I saw Noah after that, I couldn't stop thinking about the child I'd lost. He would've been about Noah's age if he had lived.

From then on, my love for Michael began to wither.

It wasn't sudden—more like a slow, inevitable unraveling.

I stopped arguing with him and trying to bridge the distance between us. Instead, I threw myself into work, using my shifts at the hospital as an excuse to stay away.

Even when I published groundbreaking research or achieved professional milestones, I didn't want to share it with him.

...

Dinner ended the way it always did.

As if we were three separate worlds orbiting in silence.

Sabrina took Noah to the piano room to practice as usual while Michael stayed behind to clear the dishes.

I sat in the living room, staring at nothing, feeling like a stranger in my own life.

I had planned to talk to him tonight, to have a proper conversation about the past and say a real goodbye. If we couldn't have love, at least we could have closure. Dignity.

But now, that felt pointless.

I walked upstairs and placed the divorce agreement I'd prepared on his desk.

Next to it, I left a short note explaining that I had already contacted a lawyer. He could handle everything with them directly—there would be no need for further discussion.

I packed a few clothes into a small bag, moving quickly and quietly.

The sound must have carried because Michael appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

"Leaving again?" he asked. "Where to this time?"

I hesitated, gripping the strap of my bag tighter. "Back to the hospital."

His brows furrowed, and his voice turned sharp. "Leaving and not coming back this time?"

I froze, caught off guard. For a moment, I didn't know what to say.

But then I straightened, forcing a calmness I didn't feel. "Hmm. That works, too."

He let out a cold laugh, shaking his head. "Good. Don't come back. Every time you're here, it's like a goddamn business transaction. I have to go out of my way to 'host' you. It's disgusting."

Disgusting.

The word hit me like a slap.

For a second, I couldn't breathe. But then something in me shifted. I lowered my gaze, my voice steady but soft. "You won't need to host me anymore."

When I looked up, my eyes were clear, and my heart was surprisingly light. "Thank you, Michael, for everything. I hope you find happiness."

I turned before he could reply, taking one step, then another, until I reached the door.

Behind me, it slamming shut echoed through the house, loud enough to make my ears ring.

I didn't flinch. I didn't turn around.

...

Outside, a rescue vehicle was already waiting for me.

The nurse stepped out as soon as she saw me, opening the door worriedly. "Dr. Smith, weren't we supposed to leave tomorrow? Why the rush?"

I climbed into the car, leaning back against the seat with a tired sigh. "I just want to get there early. Staying here—it's pointless. All it does is give me too much time to think."

The nurse didn't press further.

The engine hummed softly as the car pulled out of the neighborhood, leaving behind the place that had once felt like a home.

Through the window, I saw Noah and Sabrina in the piano room, laughing together, their heads closed as they worked through a song. They looked so content, so natural.

That moment confirmed what I already knew—nothing left for me to hold on to.