After Finley and I graduated, we got engaged, just like any other couple ready to start their lives together. We were preparing to walk down the aisle, but everything began to change when Ashley entered the picture.
Finley insisted their relationship was purely brotherly, but I could see it—it was more than that. He cared for Ashley in ways he never did for me, his fiancée. He began working late, claiming it was for surgeries, but when I checked with his colleagues, I found out the truth: he was spending that time with Ashley.
They stayed in the hospital together until late at night, working side by side—running experiments, analyzing cases, collaborating in ways that slowly shut me out. And the final blow? During my own surgery, the one meant to secure our future, he entrusted Ashley to take the lead.
Yes, surgeries carry risks. And, yes, Ashley’s previous results were flawless—every exam she took, she passed. All the evidence pointed to a freak medical accident.
But I can’t forgive her. No matter how logical it seems, she’s the reason I ended up like this.
Even if the evidence suggests it was an accident, what about the shift in her subjective intentions? What about the physical and emotional damage this has caused me? Whether or not I planned to have children, the scars—both seen and unseen—are real. From the moment I was placed on that operating table and Ashley became the surgeon, everything changed. There was no clarity from then on.
My mother, ever quick to switch sides, turned to Finley, her voice dripping with concern. "Finley, don’t worry. I’ll talk to her. Your relationship—years of love—won’t fall apart over something so trivial."
Finley didn’t even acknowledge her. He simply turned and walked away, not bothering to respond, leaving me standing there with my face still stinging from the slap.
I touched my cheek, feeling a sharp pang that wasn’t just physical. In that moment, I questioned everything—whose mother was she, really? How could she so easily take his side? I stared at her, wondering how someone could be so heartless.
And then, predictably, she turned on me. "Look at what you’ve done," she complained, her voice full of blame, as if I was the one ruining everything.
“Live a good life with Finley and stop being so suspicious all the time. He’s successful now—you should be happy for him!”
“Besides, you're getting married! What are you doing?”