The Surgeon's Final Cut

Two months into my pregnancy, my husband, Justin, asked for a divorce for the hundredth time. His reason was simple: his first love, Chloe, who suffered from a severe heart condition, had returned to the country. She needed his round-the-clock personal care. Finally, I said yes. I didn't want to carry the blame if something happened to Chloe. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with a man who didn't love me. And most of all, I didn't want my child growing up in a loveless home. On my way to the courthouse to sign the papers, a violent car crash took both my life and my unborn baby's. Justin never saw me at the courthouse. Instead, he got the news that an exact heart donor match had been found for Chloe. As her primary cardiothoracic surgeon, he rushed back to the hospital, thrilled. He cut into my body with his own hands, harvested my heart, and transplanted it into Chloe's chest. Only after the surgery was over did he remember our divorce appointment. But by then, my phone was permanently dead... I hovered in the air, staring down at my broken body, every joint mangled and twisted. It felt as though I could still feel that unbearable, blinding agony. Today was our fifth wedding anniversary—and the hundredth time Justin had demanded a divorce. In the past, I had always avoided the topic just to preserve the fragile thread connecting us. This time, though, I had agreed. Our five years together hadn't been great, but through thick and thin, we had shared a life under the same roof for so long. Until a month ago, when the girl he had never gotten over, Chloe, returned home because of her illness. From that day on, Justin stopped coming home entirely. He stayed at the hospital day and night, attending to her every need. Everyone in our circle knew he had married me solely to spite Chloe after their bitter breakup. I had been secretly in love with him for years. Even knowing the cruel truth, I had walked into this marriage willingly. My thoughts snapped back to reality. I watched the paramedics load my battered remains into the back of an ambulance headed for Seattle First Presbyterian. Compelled by some invisible pull, I drifted after them. Justin worked there. Years ago, he had already made a name for himself as a brilliant, world-renowned heart surgeon. Yet as the wife of a top specialist, I couldn't even ask him to look at me when I had a fever or an ache. I always had to see other doctors. Because on our wedding day, Justin had coldly warned me, "I don't ever want to see you at my workplace." "And don't you dare bother me over minor inconveniences." That was why, even after finding out I was two months pregnant, I hadn't found the right moment to tell him. I looked down and instinctively reached out toward my flat belly. The tiny spark of life that had been growing inside me had vanished in that violent impact. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my spectral face, a sharp, suffocating ache tightening in my chest. That was the baby I had prayed for and dreamed of for five whole years... My mangled body wasn't rolled down to the morgue. Instead, it was taken straight up to an operating suite on the fifth floor. The doors slid open. Two people walked in, one behind the other. "Ms. Stone, harvesting an organ without next-of-kin consent is a federal crime..." I recognized the speaker. It was Brandon, Justin's surgical resident. Over the years, whenever I brought meals to Justin at the hospital, Brandon had often shared them with us. Chloe gave a cold scoff. She crossed her arms, walked over to my bloodied gurney, and looked down. After a single glance, she jerked her head away, unable to conceal the sheer disgust in her eyes. "I've waited so long to find a matching donor. Do you really expect me to just let this pass?" She turned to Brandon with an icy, calculating stare. "Call Justin. Tell him to get back here right now." "I want him to harvest this heart and perform the transplant on me himself." Brandon hesitated, opening and closing his mouth several times, clearly terrified. Chloe didn't break a sweat. She unzipped her designer purse, pulled out an envelope, and shoved a certified check for fifty thousand dollars into his hands. "Nobody knows about this except you and me," she said smoothly. "Even if the family comes looking later, I have more than enough power and money to bury it." Between the sheer greed and her assurances, Brandon caved. He slipped the check into his coat and dialed Justin's number. A few automated rings later, Justin's deep, indifferent voice echoed through the speaker. "What is it?" Brandon froze for a second, glancing nervously at Chloe before speaking into the receiver. "Dr. Vance... we found a matching donor heart for Ms. Stone." "The donor is already in the OR. You need to come back right now." At those words, the coldness in Justin's tone instantly shattered, replaced by raw, uncontainable euphoria—as if he had just hit the jackpot. "Are you serious?! I'm on my way!" "Chloe won't have to live in fear anymore..." His ecstatic voice pierced my spirit like a serrated blade. Through blurry, tear-filled vision, I looked down at my own body on the cold metal table. Justin, if you knew the body on that table was mine... would you still sound that happy?Justin made it back to the hospital in less than thirty minutes. Out of breath, he caught Chloe in his arms right outside the hallway and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Chloe, you're going to live. You're finally saved." Tears welled up in Chloe's eyes. She leaned into his chest, her shoulders shaking with soft sobs. "Justin... but if I can't have you, I'd rather give up this heart..." Hearing that, Justin wrapped his arms around her even tighter. He kissed her forehead tenderly, his voice fierce with promise. "Don't say that. I'm going to divorce Clara. I swear it." "I only married her in the first place... to get back at you." Even though the whole world already knew it, hearing those exact words spill directly from his lips still tore my heart to shreds. So he truly loved Chloe that much. Five years of devotion, and I had never managed to make him care about me even a fraction as much. While my chest ached in silence, Justin finished soothing Chloe and told the nurses to prep her for surgery. Then, he led Brandon into the scrub room. Harvesting an organ was routine muscle memory for a surgeon of his caliber. Yet the moment he stepped up to the table and saw the blood-soaked, mangled form, he couldn't help but frown. "Brandon, why wasn't the donor prepped or cleaned up before being brought in?" Brandon stiffened, too terrified to meet Justin's eyes. He stammered, "Dr. Vance, finding a match for Ms. Stone took a miracle. We... we had to move fast to ensure the organ stayed viable, right?" Justin didn't argue. He held out his gloved hand, and Brandon slapped the scalpel into his palm. Just as Justin positioned the blade, his hand paused. I followed his line of sight. He was staring at my left hand. On my ring finger, a diamond band sat coated in dark crimson blood. I had designed that ring myself. Back when we got married, I had forged a matching men's band for Justin. He had looked at it with pure disdain, tossed it into a drawer, and never touched it again. "Dr. Vance? Is something wrong?" Brandon asked, watching him uneasily. Justin gave a slight shake of his head. When he spoke again, there was a faint trace of pity in his voice. "She was so young. Her husband must be devastated." With that, he drew the blade down my chest, parting the flesh. Brandon stood beside him, handing off surgical instruments. "Our initial scan showed she was about two months pregnant, too." "It really is tragic." Justin didn't reply this time, but the atmosphere in the operating room turned noticeably heavier. I hovered nearby, watching his focused profile. My mind drifted back to last winter, when I came down with a vicious case of pneumonia. I had been paralyzed with weakness, unable to even crawl out of bed. Justin had been home that night, but he was entirely absorbed in his research. I had burned with a dangerously high fever for an entire night. When an ambulance finally brought me to the ER, the attending physician told me I was hours away from organ failure. Yet the first thing Justin did when I woke up was lash out at me. "You're a grown woman! If you were that sick, couldn't you open your mouth and say something?!" He had glared down at me, his eyes dark with irritation. "Or were you just pulling another pathetic stunt to get my attention?" Back then, I didn't even have the strength to defend myself. He was the one who had explicitly ordered me never to inconvenience him. I had followed his rules so obediently. Why was he still angry? He could feel pity for a complete stranger on a cold operating table... so why had he treated the woman who shared his bed for five years with nothing but cruel contempt?The harvest went without a hitch. Six hours later, my heart was beating again. Inside Chloe's chest. The moment Justin stepped out of the surgical suite, he went straight to Chloe's private recovery room. Watching her sleep peacefully under the monitors, he finally let out a long, relieved exhale. After checking her vitals, Justin returned to his office. He collapsed into his leather chair and pulled out his phone. There wasn't a single notification on the lock screen. In the past, I would have sent him dozens of texts throughout the day, sharing every little mundane detail—what I ate, what I did, how my design projects were going. Justin had never once replied. He stared at the blank screen for a long time. Eventually, he navigated to his contacts, found my name, and hesitated before tapping the call button. The rhythmic dial tone rang over and over until the automated voicemail kicked in. Nobody answered. Justin's patience wore thin. He opened WhatsApp, clicked on our chat thread, and fired off two irritated voice memos. "Clara, you already agreed to the divorce. Ignoring my calls isn't going to change my mind." "Don't flatter yourself into thinking this little game of playing hard to get will stop me from signing those papers!" Watching his self-righteous scowl, I let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Justin... if you hated me so much, why did you ever marry me?" Not that it mattered anymore. The annoying wife who had irritated him for five years had died on the highway in the pouring rain. He would never have to be annoyed by me again. For the first time ever, Justin's messages vanished into the void. I was completely gone. Yet he made no effort to look for me. He had convinced himself that I was just throwing a tantrum, hiding away like a coward to delay the divorce. My body remained in the hospital morgue, unclaimed. The reason was simple: I was an orphan. Growing up in the foster system and eventually clawing my way into one of the country's top art and design academies had been one of the proudest achievements of my life. The other had been marrying Justin. Back in college, he wasn't just the crown jewel of the pre-med track; he was the untouchable golden boy every girl whispered about in the hallways. Back then, Justin only had eyes for Chloe. Even over in the design department, everyone knew their picture-perfect love story. The first time I saw him was at an inter-college mixer. Surrounded by a sea of people, Justin stood in a tailored suit, speaking with easy, magnetic confidence. A crowd circled him, but none could outshine his brilliance. Later that night, when a drunk student cornered me in the parking lot and wouldn't take no for an answer, Justin stepped in and walked me out safely. That was the first time my heart ever skipped a beat for someone. I knew the gulf between our worlds was vast, and he already had a girlfriend. I buried that quiet infatuation deep in my chest. It was almost laughable—someone who had crawled up from the dirt daring to harbor feelings for someone so hopelessly out of reach. I thought that brief encounter would be the only chapter we'd ever share. Until Chloe walked out on him to pursue her career abroad. A few weeks later, I happened to visit his firm to deliver custom cufflinks for one of his friends. The sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, washing over his striking, indifferent face. He tilted his head, looked at me through half-lidded eyes, and casually asked, "Do you want to marry me?""Clara still hasn't answered?" In the private ward, Chloe sat propped against the pillows, her face pale. Within seconds, her eyes rimmed with red, and tears spilled down her cheeks. "Justin, did you really never feel anything for her in those five years?" "She disappeared because you lied to me, didn't you? You... you don't actually want to marry me." "You never truly forgave me for leaving you back then!" By the end of her sentence, Chloe was sobbing hysterically. Over the past few days, my spirit had grown strangely calm. I sat on the wide windowsill, quietly watching their melodrama unfold. I already knew what Justin would do. He would immediately pull her into his arms and shower her with gentle reassurances. Sure enough, a heartbeat later, he frowned, rose from his chair, and gathered Chloe into an embrace. See? I knew him like the back of my hand. "Clara already agreed to the divorce. I don't know why she suddenly went off the grid." He stroked Chloe's back with practiced tenderness, his voice dropping to a low, soothing murmur. "Don't worry. I will finalize the divorce." "And I will marry you." Right at that moment, hurried footsteps pounded outside in the corridor. The heavy door was pushed open, and two uniformed police officers stepped inside. Justin froze, turning to them with a puzzled expression. "Officers, can I help you with something?" Before either cop could answer, the door banged wide open again. Brandon stumbled into the room, gasping for air, trembling from head to toe as he looked at Justin. "Dr. Vance... Clara is dead..."