When I Stopped Needing Him

“Are you sure you want the surgery tomorrow?”

My attending physician placed the test results in front of me.

“The cyst is in a manageable position, but you have a history of severe drug allergies. Adrian is returning to the hospital today. You could wait until he’s back.”

I checked the scheduled time once more.

“There’s no reason to postpone it. Keep the original appointment.”

The doctor looked surprised.

At St. Gabriel Medical Center, almost everyone knew I was Adrian DeLuca’s fiancée. In the past, I had sent him every test result and waited for him to review the treatment plan.

Two weeks ago, he had told me that I needed to start making my own decisions.

I was simply doing what he had asked.

When I left the examination room, I saw Adrian at the end of the corridor.

He had just returned from Geneva, and his suitcase was still beside him. Mia Caruso stood at his side, her white intern coat hidden beneath a black cashmere overcoat.

I recognized it immediately.

I had given it to Adrian on the fifth anniversary of our engagement.

Mia saw me and drew the coat more tightly around herself. Adrian’s attention had already moved to the medical file in my hand, then to the fingers pressed against my left wrist.

“How long have you been in pain?”

He crossed the corridor and took the file from me.

“Not long.”

“Whenever you say that, you’ve usually been hiding it for weeks.”

He moved quickly through the results, then stopped at the surgery schedule.

“Who’s operating tomorrow? Does anesthesia know about your allergy history?”

“It’s all been arranged.”

“By whom?”

“Me.”

Adrian looked up, studying my face as though he expected to find anger there.

“Dr. Lombardi isn’t available tomorrow. Move the surgery to the day after tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll have him take the case, and I won’t leave New York before then.”

“The surgeon already assigned to me is qualified.”

“You react badly to pain medication, and your blood pressure drops after anesthesia. Are you planning to handle all of that alone?”

He remembered those details, though it had been a long time since he had asked whether I was in pain.

“The hospital will keep me under observation.” I took the file back. “I can manage it myself. You don’t need to trouble yourself. Thank you.”

Adrian did not release the folder immediately.

“I don’t need to trouble myself?”

He repeated the words, his expression tightening.

I used to ask whether we should attend family dinners together, whether I should wait for him for dinner, or what he thought about a new job offer. Now I had scheduled surgery without telling him, and he seemed unable to accept it.

Mia spoke softly beside him.

“Elena, please don’t misunderstand the coat. I felt sick during my shift, and Doctor DeLuca stayed with me through the examination. I was cold afterward, so he let me borrow it.”

She was holding a folder from the women’s health department.

“I didn’t know which doctor to request. He made the appointment himself.”

A few months earlier, I had called Adrian because of persistent abdominal pain. He had been in a meeting and told me to contact the hospital scheduling office instead of interrupting him over something routine.

Mia said she was frightened, and he had personally arranged everything for her.

Adrian looked at me.

“She fainted during a night shift. The Caruso family placed her under our protection. I needed to make sure it wasn’t serious.”

“I didn’t ask.”

Mia’s expression faltered. She slipped off the coat and held it out to Adrian.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize wearing it would upset you.” Her voice softened. “You should take it back. I don’t want Elena thinking I’m trying to take something that belongs to her.”

She made it sound as though the problem was my jealousy rather than the fact that she had walked through the hospital wearing my fiancé’s clothes.

Adrian accepted the coat but kept his attention on me.

“What time are you being admitted tomorrow?”

“The hospital will contact me.”

“I’m asking you.”

“The arrangements are final. There’s nothing left to discuss.”

I walked past him, but he caught my wrist.

“Elena.”

I turned back.

“Move the surgery to the day after tomorrow,” he said, his voice lower now. “I’ll be there.”

There had been a time when those words would have been enough. I would have rearranged my work, canceled flights, and changed every plan I had made because he had finally found time for me.

This time, I pulled my hand free.

“I’m not changing it.”

As the elevator doors began to close, Mia asked Adrian another question about her test results.

He did not answer her.

He remained in the corridor, the black coat folded over one arm, watching me leave.

I did not wait for him to follow.