The sound of hurried footsteps filled the room, and then a nurse’s excited voice rang out, "Dr. Levine is here!"

For a brief moment, relief washed over me.

"...118, 119, the baby's heartbeat has returned!"

The operating room was filled with cheers of relief. But that was short-lived.

A loud, forceful knock came from outside the operating room. The nurse went to check and returned, her face brightening.

"Ms. Cromwell, your husband is here to see you!" she said excitedly.

But before I could even register her words, Colin’s voice cut through the air, sharp and hurried.

"Dr. Levine, my wife is pregnant! She’s in pain—please, you have to check on her now!"

The room fell silent. Dr. Levine’s eyes hardened as she answered firmly, “I’m in the middle of a critical surgery. You’ll have to wait.”

The young nurse holding my hand suddenly stormed out, her anger palpable. "Are you insane?" she shouted at Colin. "Your wife is here fighting for her life, and you’re trying to steal her doctor for someone else?"

Colin’s voice faltered, confused. "Eloise? Eloise Cromwell? She’s the one in surgery?"

Then he laughed—a cruel, sarcastic laugh as he spat, "Don’t be ridiculous. She’s not pregnant. Why would she need an obstetrician?"

He tried to barge in, but the nurses blocked his path. His voice rang out in anger.

"You have no ethics! Neglecting a real pregnant woman—I'm going to report all of you!" he barked.

Tears welled in my eyes, not from the pain but from the realization. Whether I was pregnant or not, if he interrupted the surgery, it could cost me my life. Apparently, to him, my life—and the life of our child—was meaningless. The people fighting to save me were strangers. But my husband, the man I had loved for seven years, didn’t care whether I lived or died.

"She’s losing consciousness! Her blood pressure is plummeting!" someone shouted.

I could hear Colin’s footsteps retreating, leaving me behind, just as he had always done.

I woke up to a soft voice calling my name. The young nurse was by my side again, holding a syringe.

"You’re awake!" she smiled gently, though her eyes were still red. "You were lucky. The knife didn’t hit any vital organs, or it could have been much worse."

My hand instinctively reached for my stomach, searching for the small bump that had been there before. But all I felt was emptiness.

The nurse’s expression darkened. "I’m so sorry. We did everything we could..."