Mga Maiikling Kwento tungkol sa Tragic Love at mga Nobela ng Doctor na may Countdown

To marry Lorenzo Vincenzo, I gave up my photography career. A dream I had held for ten years. But on our fourth anniversary, I asked my sister Greer to draft the divorce papers. She kept asking, over and over. "Why would you leave Lorenzo? He's the top surgeon at St. Vincent's. Rich, gorgeous. Half the city is dying for a shot at him." I swallowed the bitterness clawing up my throat. "Because of a gift." Greer followed my gaze to the music box on the table. The card was in Elara's handwriting. Lorenzo's junior from med school. [Thank you for flying out to do my aunt's surgery, senior. I know it was a long trip. You worked so hard. The little dancers on this music box remind me of us at graduation prom. Hope you like it, Lorenzo.] That day, my father was in a car accident. I rushed him to St. Vincent's. Only Lorenzo could do the surgery. I searched every floor of that hospital, every corridor. Nowhere. I told myself he must be on a business trip. But no. He had left his post for Elara. The same man who once swore he would never abandon the OR for personal matters. Finally, my father died on the table. Greer pulled me into her arms. "The Vincenzo family owns this city. Their reach is everywhere. Where could you possibly go that he would not find you?" I glanced at the flight confirmation on my phone. "Three days. I am flying to Paris, to a photography studio there. And I will make sure he never, ever finds me."

On my birthday, My wife told me there was an emergency at the hospital and she couldn’t come home. She sent me five hundred dollars with a note: Happy birthday. Love you. Ten minutes later, her young resident, Evan Hayes, posted a screenshot of a transfer. Fifty thousand dollars. Congratulations on becoming an attending. I’ll be there for every milestone from now on. Seven years ago, Claire lost both her parents and was buried in debt. I gave up a senior architect position overseas, stayed by her side, and helped her through medical school, residency, and every exam that stood between her and the life she wanted. The first time she put on a white coat, she held me and said, “Adrian, I wouldn’t be here without you.” Years later, she gave someone else the time, patience, and care she once gave me. That night, I didn’t argue. I accepted the London offer I had turned down three times, took off the ring I had worn for seven years, and left. Claire wasn’t worried. “He loves me too much. He’ll come back.” A month later, she called in tears. “I’ll give you everything. Just come home.” She still didn’t understand. I never left because Evan got more. I left because the woman I spent seven years lifting up had finally made my love feel worthless.

Ten days after giving birth, I told my husband, Ethan Reed, that something was wrong with me. He turned his phone face-down on the coffee table and looked at me for a full three seconds. "Sophia, you just had a baby. It's normal to feel tired." Then he flipped the phone back over and went on texting his office nurse, Serena Blake. That was the last time I brought it up. Everything that happened after that, I assumed was my own fault. That changed when I reached into his coat pocket and felt a collar I'd never seen before. Real leather, brand new, with a round metal tag hanging from it. It wasn't my size.