When His Love Is Too Late, My Love Has Gone

Hearing these words, I felt that the whole world was collapsing in front of me. I had given up a higher career in other cities for Murphy, choosing instead to stay in the hospital as an ordinary doctor, thinking that my sincerity had moved him. But after saving his life with everything I had, he ended up treating me like this.

"I'm not getting a divorce, Murphy. You just can't remember our past now, but it doesn't mean that it never happened. There is rehabilitation treatment in the hospital. As long as you do it regularly, it will be effective."

I couldn't help crying and Murphy looked at me with disgust. Through his eyes, I saw myself—haggard and humble, like an insignificant speck.

"Rehabilitation treatment? I don't need it. Amnesia is good. At least I don't have to think about the disgusting time when I was with you."

Every word he uttered was so cold. Until he left my sight with Brianna, I stood there, lost and heartbroken. I couldn't understand where things had gone wrong. I had happiness, but it had slipped away quietly between my fingers.

When I got home, I had no appetite for the food on the table. There was a missed call on my phone from Murphy's mother, so I quickly called back.

Murphy's mother was a typical housewife—gentle, indecisive and not good at expressing herself. We didn't contact each other much. After the call connected, she tactfully expressed her thoughts. She and Murphy's father were very grateful to me for saving Murphy's life, but they also understood that a forced marriage was not good.

"Murphy had been in love with Brianna for many years before dating and marrying you. If Brianna had not left suddenly, they would have been married and had children. Now they don't want to stimulate Murphy, who has just recovered from a serious illness and hope that he and I can solve the marriage problem peacefully," she said.

I sniffed, my sobs breaking through. "Mom, I know that I am an orphan and I am not a good match for the Murphy family, but I have always been sincere to Murphy. We used to live happily. Don't you think this is cruel to me?"

On the phone, Murphy's mother couldn't help sobbing and kept apologizing to me. They all wanted me to help Murphy and Brianna.

Then what am I in Murphy's life? Was I just a key to saving him? Or merely a passerby in his long life?

I felt a deep sense of despair, questioning my place in Murphy's world. The love and dedication I had poured into our relationship seemed meaningless now. It was as if I was an outsider, a temporary fixture in a life that had moved on without me.

The next few days passed in a blur. I threw myself into my work, trying to distract myself from the pain. But every time I saw a happy couple, it reminded me of what I had lost. The hospital corridors, once a place of purpose and healing, now felt like a maze of sorrow and regret.

Murphy's words haunted me. The love we had shared, the life we had built—it was all slipping away, erased by a cruel twist of fate. And Brianna, the woman who had once been a distant memory, was now at the center of his world.

***

When the divorce agreement was sent to the hospital, I had just stepped off the operating table. Looking at the familiar words on the white paper, I tightly grasped the agreement, feeling a wave of despair wash over me.

I borrowed a cell phone from a colleague and called Murphy, wanting to talk to him face to face. There was a long silence on the other end before he reluctantly agreed after I assured him repeatedly that this would be the last time.

I changed out of my surgical gown, said hello to my colleagues and left the hospital early. The traffic on the road in the afternoon was terrible. We had agreed to meet at a nearby cafe and I rushed there, afraid of being late. Just as I was walking absent-mindedly, a large bus that ran a red light rushed straight towards me.

The screams of people around me echoed in my ears as I was knocked several meters away. My body fell heavily beside an electric pole on the side of the road. My consciousness began to slip away. My body felt very light, as if floating in the air or on water.

I watched as my body lay surrounded by a group of passers-by, face down, limbs twisted in a strange posture and blood pooling around me. Not long after, an ambulance arrived and took me away. I wanted to follow my body, but I felt a great force pulling me towards an unknown place.

In just a few seconds, I found myself at the coffee shop where I was supposed to meet Murphy. I stood next to him as he impatiently checked the time, sipping a glass of water. He couldn't see me; the person he was waiting for was standing right beside him.

"Murphy! Murphy!" I called out, my voice trembling, but he couldn't hear me. The pain of being hit by the car no longer lingered, but the memory of it was etched deeply in my mind.

I wondered if I could return to my body. Suddenly, Murphy's phone rang. His expression changed slightly after a moment and he hurriedly left the coffee shop. I followed him back to the hospital. The call must had been from one of my colleagues.

Back at the hospital, more than a month later, I saw myself lying on the operating table. Murphy was arguing with my colleague.

"I'm not her family member. We're getting divorced soon."

The words stung, but I was determined to see this through.

The scene was chaotic. Doctors and nurses were moving frantically, trying to save me. I floated above, watching the scene with a surreal detachment. The world seemed so different from this vantage point, but my love for Murphy tethered me to my past life.

Murphy's expression was conflicted. I could see the turmoil in his eyes, the struggle between his memories and his current feelings. I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to remind him of our love, but I was powerless in this state.

"Murphy, please," I whispered, even though I knew he couldn't hear me. "Remember us. Remember what we had."