"Do you have any idea how long Naomi fought the hospital to get assigned to your surgery? Do you have any idea how many trips I've made to that hospital for your sake?"
I let out a quiet, icy laugh. "How exhausting for the both of you."
"But I've said it. I'm not having this surgery."
"Family or doctor, either way, you're supposed to respect the patient's own wishes, aren't you?"
A full month had passed since the premarital exam came back with a cancer diagnosis.
In that month, Leonard had indeed been running back and forth to the hospital.
But not for my condition. He'd been picking up Naomi and driving her home.
Eight years together, and Leonard had never once picked me up from work. He didn't even know which direction my office entrance faced.
Naomi had been back for six months, and he was already a regular at the hospital.
"Constance, this isn't up to you."
"I've already got your admission arranged. And when the time comes, I'll sign the consent form myself—as your spouse."
"This surgery matters for you and for Naomi."
It didn't matter for me.
It mattered for Naomi.
Everyone knew that in the six months since her return, Naomi had botched one procedure after another and was on the verge of being let go.
She needed my surgery to save her reputation.
"I won't—"
A sharp ringtone cut me off. The screen lit up with the name *Naomi*, trailed by a little heart emoji.
Leonard's expression shifted, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. "Naomi changed it. She's young. It's just a silly thing girls do."
Always the same excuse.
I stared at the custom sticker on the dashboard in front of the passenger seat—*Reserved for Nomi*—the words seared into my eyes like a brand.
Every single fight I'd ever picked over that sticker, and Leonard always came back with the same lines.
*She's young, she's immature—why are you acting just as childish?*
*Go ahead, rip it off. She'll stick a new one up. What's the point?*
*Would it kill you to just let her have this? It's a sticker. It's nothing.*
When it came to Naomi, I was always the one being ridiculous in Leonard's eyes—always the jealous girlfriend throwing a fit over nothing.
Six months of swallowed grievances, too many to count.
I rolled my eyes and didn't bother responding, just watched him pick up the phone.
"What's wrong, Nomi?"
Gone was every trace of the cold hostility he'd just shown me. The moment he spoke, his voice was gentle. Concerned.