Doctor Regret Short Stories & Novels

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."

To prove she was fair, Valerie forced me into the family's live-fire drill. She knew I had a severe heart condition. She knew I couldn't stand the sight of blood. Three hours under the blistering sun. My hands shook wildly. I stared at the trembling rabbit tied to the target, terrified to pull the trigger. "You can't even kill a freaking rabbit? How are you supposed to lead this family?" Valerie's icy voice lashed at me from behind. Tears filled my eyes. I finally pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through the rabbit. Blood spattered everywhere. The smell and all that red triggered my blood phobia instantly. Everything went pitch black. Chloe, the intern medic, walked over and grabbed me roughly. Her eyes were full of pure malice. "Underboss, her vitals are totally fine. Is she faking it just to escape training?" Valerie looked down at my pale face. Disgust and disappointment covered her face. "Gemma, is this how I raised you? Everyone else finished. You don't get special treatment." "You finish this drill today—even if it kills you!" Then, my chest stopped moving. Dead silence. My soul floated into the air. I looked down at Mom, filled with guilt and despair. I'm sorry, Mom. This time, I really couldn't hold on.

A week after getting into a cold war with Alexander Griffin, his friends drag me to a private room. They drink and smoke inside, not caring that I have asthma. My breathing speeds up and it starts to get difficult for me. My hands tremble as I call Alexander and tell him I'm about to die. However, he's with his childhood sweetheart. He doesn't answer my calls. He finally answers when I'm about to pass out, but all he does is berate me. "You're old enough to know not to be so childish, Isabelle. Why would you think of joking around with your life? "Sasha's injured, and I'm tending to her wound—it's my duty as a doctor. Don't tell me you're jealous over that! For the last time, there's nothing between Sasha and me. It's up to you whether you believe it!" Later, I die in that private room. His friends throw my body into the sea to cover up their crimes. One day, Alexander finds my journal. That's when he loses his mind…

I double over in pain after assisting Adrian Randall with a late-night operation. He immediately carries me to a ward to check on me. However, before he can do that, he receives a call from a patient and hurries off. That night, I miscarry. When I come out of the operating theater, I see his childhood friend's social media update. She's shared a photo of her baby bump. "He hurried to come to my side just because I was lost. You have to treat Adrian well in the future, my darling!" I rub my belly, which throbs with a dull ache. I don't cry and demand an explanation from Adrian as I would have in the past. Instead, I like the post and apply for a position on the Borderless Medical Assistance Program. The day I leave, the high and mighty Dr. Randall looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. He asks, "How can you bear to leave me behind?"

There's an earthquake. My husband, the captain of the rescue team, abandons me to save Wendy Smith, his true love. I don't stop him. I let him go. Why? Because when he was faced with the same choice in my past life, he saved me because I was eight months pregnant. Meanwhile, Wendy remained trapped under the rubble. She ultimately died due to a lack of oxygen after the delayed rescue. Later, on the day I went into labor, my husband brought me to Wendy's grave. He watched me coldly as I collapsed on the ground from the searing pain. He ignored my pleas. "Does it hurt, Yelena? Wendy's pain was a thousand times worse when she was trapped under the rubble!" I stared at him in disbelief as he descended into insanity. "You were safe that night—you were in the safe triangle zone! Wendy would never have missed the best time for rescue if not for you using your pregnancy to threaten me! I want you to experience all the pain she went through!" He forced me down on my knees and bumped my head on the ground before Wendy's grave. He ignored the blood that flowed down my legs. Ultimately, I died after major blood loss from a difficult labor. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day the earthquake happened. This time, neither I nor my child will wait for him.

While I was traveling overseas with my family, a sudden flood hit. My fiancé slung my sister Joan over his back because her legs were weak, and ran for safety. My parents didn't have time for me, but they still remembered to grab the parrot they had just bought for Joan. All of them flew home overnight and even posted in the family group chat about how lucky everyone was to survive. But… They forgot something. I was still trapped in the flood, alone and helpless. When I woke up, I called my mentor without hesitation. "Dr. Jackson, I've decided to go with you and join Doctors Without Borders. I'm never coming back."

During the ten years since I was found and brought to my biological family, Sonia Baxter, the girl who took my place, and I have been as close as real sisters. Even Mom says that Sonia cares more about me than a real sister would. I once swore I'd give my life to protect our special family of four. When Sonia is rushed into emergency surgery with a ruptured cerebral aneurysm, I am in my office, calmly practicing a basic suturing technique on a surgical simulator. On the screen, the robotic arm threads the needle with such precision that it looks like a work of art. A few minutes later, my boyfriend, Oliver Lyons, slams open the office door and shouts at me, "Amelia Baxter! Sonia's in critical condition. Only your micro-dissection skills can save her! Every expert in the hospital is waiting for you! We've got less than an hour before the window closes!" He looks at me with hopeful eyes. I'm the only person in the country capable of performing a surgery this complex. My hands are even known as the "Hands of God". However, I simply reply with a hum and continue fiddling with the model. Suddenly, my parents rush in. Mom grabs my arm and cries out, "Amelia! That's your sister in there! How could you just stand by and watch her die?" I gently pull away from her and hold my right hand out in front of them. This hand, which had once created countless medical miracles, is now trembling slightly. "Unfortunately, since yesterday, I've been showing symptoms of essential tremor. Dad, Mom… this hand is ruined."

My husband, the hospital director, stole my kidney to save his beloved first love, who suffered from uremia. While I was under anesthesia for heart surgery, he stormed into the operating room without permission and ordered the removal of one of my kidneys. I begged him to stop, explaining that my heart condition was critical and that I could not survive back-to-back major surgeries. He only sneered at me, his voice dripping with disdain. “I knew you’d be jealous of Cece and make pathetic excuses. That’s exactly why I chose this moment.” Ignoring my desperate pleas, he took my kidney and walked away. In the end, I suffered multiple post-surgery complications and died miserably on the operating table.

During the compulsory medical exam for freshmen when I start university, I am told I'm pregnant. The hospital demands four thousand dollars for prenatal tests and another 15 thousand dollars for pregnancy management. When I refuse to pay, they threaten to have me expelled from the university. I grit my teeth and pay the 19 thousand dollars. I'm also required to go back for prenatal checkups every month. The day before my due date, the hospital tells me to get admitted and prepare for delivery. The next morning, the doctor tells me I can leave. Then, I receive a notification from my bank stating that a delivery fee of ten thousand dollars has been deducted from my account. I laugh and call the police. "The hospital performed an illegal gender reassignment surgery on me. They made me, a man, give birth!" Seriously, I told them from the start that I'm a male student.

I'm running a fever and having period cramps, so I curl up in bed and ask my boyfriend, Aiden Foley, if he can take me to the hospital. However, he just glances at me and refuses, citing medical ethics that he can't treat the people closest to him. I end up taking a cab to the hospital alone. Yet, in my weak and frail state, I lose my footing and tumble down the stairs, injuring my foot. Aiden, who claimed to be busy, then pushes past me with his intern, Tracy Olsen, in his arms, using the priority lane for an expedited checkup. A young nurse nearby hurriedly tries to explain on his behalf. "Dr. Foley just really looks after the newcomers. But don't worry. He'll be out to see you in a bit." I give her a wry, bitter smile. She has already helped me register for hospital appointments 33 times, and yet my own boyfriend hasn't even touched my medical records before. "Forget about it," I say, gazing up at the glaring fluorescent lights above my head. My train ticket back to my hometown is booked for two days from now, and my resignation has already been approved. This is the end of the road for us, Aiden.

Mom is diagnosed with a benign fibroid during her check-up, but somehow, she ends up getting her entire uterus removed, leading to her getting an infection and dying from it. With the surgical records in hand, I decide to sue the doctor for malpractice. But my wife, Anastasia Ziegler, who's also the director of the hospital, personally steps in to vouch for him. Enraged, I question her why. However, Anastasia just shoves me away coldly. "Your mom was already that old. What use did she have for her uterus? Louis' future is more important! Anyway, I'll waive the hospital bills. You'd better take down the court case, though. Don't embarrass me any further in the hospital." As I gaze at Mom's cold corpse, I can't help but chuckle. It turns out that Anastasia has no idea that her beloved side piece has killed off her actual mom, who had stayed widowed for many years.

Everyone told me how lucky I was. I was nothing special, yet somehow, I'd married Julian Ashford, the campus heartthrob who went on to become a once-in-a-generation surgical talent. My best friend, Nora Hayes, had always been the prettiest girl in school. Julian and I had been married for seven years, and everyone thought he adored me. At our wedding, he had even announced in front of all our guests that he would grant Nora one wish. It bothered me a little, but Julian simply cupped my face and looked at me with such sincerity that all my doubts disappeared. "Lena, I love you so much that everyone you care about matters to me too. Besides, Nora's a single mom raising a kid on her own. It's not easy for her." I cried that day, convinced I'd married the best man in the world. Seven years later, at 28 weeks pregnant, I was on my way to another prenatal appointment when I finally saw the truth for myself. "You're such a good boy, Charlie. You know, you were the wish Mommy asked Daddy for. Even when your little sister arrives, Mommy and Daddy will still love you just as much." Julian ruffled Charlie's hair affectionately, his other arm wrapped protectively around Nora. My fingers tightened around my phone until they hurt. I felt as if all the blood in my body had suddenly turned cold. On the screen was a message Julian had sent me only ten minutes earlier. "Hey babe, got called into emergency surgery. I'll definitely come with you next time." Next time. It was always next time. I was already seven months pregnant, and he hadn't attended a single appointment with me, even though his department was only one wing away. I stared at the three of them, looking every bit like a perfect little family. Julian, there won't be a next time.

Camden Price's true love, Lynn Gardner, died on my surgery table. Unexpectedly, the malicious Camden chose to protect me from backlash and even proposed to me. He treated me extraordinarily well after we got married. Camden would take me to taste the hottest chili. We would sign up for the most death-defying activities like bungee jumping. When it was late at night, he would take me to the rowdiest and most dangerous bars to drink our hearts away. All this led to me contracting stomach cancer. During my late-stage cancer, I found the diary he left at home. Everything he did with me was what Lynn wanted to do with him. On the last page of his diary, he wrote hatefully, "She deserves to die." I did die. I died after Lynn was found alive. She had faked her death. I died on the day Lynn was marrying another man. You should be happy now, Camden.

On my birthday, my mother-in-law had barely been wheeled out of surgery when she was rushed straight into the ER again. Then, a newly posted video from an intern went viral. In it, the intern held a scalpel and sliced open my mother-in-law's abdomen, while the surgeon who was supposed to be leading the operation, my husband, was nowhere in sight. 'People say an intern has no business being in the operating room? That's all right. My man, the department head, indulges me.' My husband's coworkers reacted warmly, saying the two of them made quite a pair. I forwarded the video to the hospital director without hesitation. … Before long, my husband called. His breathing came hard and uneven, his voice breaking between words. "I forgot your birthday. Big deal. Did you really have to run to the director and accuse me of breaking hospital rules? I'm done with you and your ridiculous tantrums. Even if my mom takes your side this time, I'm still divorcing you." He hung up before I could say a word. What he didn't know was that his mother would never take my side again. Because the patient who hemorrhaged and died after being operated on by that intern was his mother.

On my first night shift at the new hospital, I saw my newlywed husband, Nathan Lloyd. He was supposed to be on a business trip. He was kneeling at the operating room entrance while a pregnant woman in labor was lying on the emergency bed beside him, experiencing heavy bleeding. Nathan gripped my hand, his pleading cries echoing in my ears, "Doctor, I beg you to save her!"

The day Jasper Carter's terminally ill ex, Natalie Klutz, gave birth, his parents—Josephine and Raymond—hired ten bodyguards to keep me, his actual wife, out of the hospital. But I never showed. Josephine clutched Natalie's hand. "She's not getting near you or the baby." Jasper wiped Natalie's forehead. "Relax. Dad's got men at every door. If Emily shows, we'll toss her." Hours passed. Still no me. Jasper finally let himself breathe. He didn't get what my deal was. He was just granting Natalie's dying wish—to be a mom. The second the nurse handed over the crying baby, he smiled like everything was finally worth it. If I came tomorrow and said sorry, he'd forgive me. Hell, he'd even let me raise the kid. What he didn't know? I had just submitted my paperwork. I'd leave the country, join Doctors Without Borders, and ghost him for good.

My husband, Richard Hayes, hated special treatment and refused to make exceptions for anyone. So when I begged him to get my seriously ill father in to see a specialist sooner, his face went cold and he flatly refused. "The hospital has rules. Everyone waits their turn. Why should your dad get to cut the line?" He even dismissed the blood my father was coughing up as a flare-up of his chronic bronchitis. He said we were overreacting and wasting the hospital's time and resources. Seven months pregnant, I spent three nights camped out in the hospital waiting room so Richard wouldn't have to bend the rules for us. By the time my father finally received treatment, the delay had already taken its toll. He spent night after night in pain and was left with permanent damage. In the end, it was my father who told me not to blame Richard. Doctors couldn't make exceptions for people, he said. I needed to be more understanding. I believed in his high-minded principles, right up until today, when I left work early to bring him a meal at the hospital. I saw it with my own eyes. My husband was soothing another woman in her hospital bed. His first love, Daisy Lawson, had undergone a simple appendectomy, yet she was staying in the hospital's only VIP suite. Three of the hospital's best private-duty nurses took turns caring for her around the clock. Richard had even pulled strings to get her a hard-to-find painkiller overnight. Daisy whined that the medicine tasted bitter. Richard's face filled with concern. He unwrapped a piece of chocolate and fed it to her. "Daisy, sweetheart, take your medicine. You'll feel better soon. I've rescheduled all my upcoming surgeries so I can stay here with you." The thermos fell from my hand and hit the floor with a crash. Hot soup splashed all over my foot. It hit me all at once. There had never been any ironclad principles. He'd simply saved all his exceptions for someone else.

My son, Tyler, never really had his dad around growing up. Because my husband, Ethan, was a top doctor, always working late. He pulled countless patients back from the brink of death, but he misdiagnosed his own son's pneumonia as a simple cold. All because he was on the phone with his first love, Isabella, while he was supposed to be listening to Tyler's chest. That night, when Tyler's life was on the line, Ethan claimed he was in a critical surgery and hung up on me ten times. I rushed our son to the hospital, only to find out my husband was at a birthday party for Isabella and her daughter. In the dead of night, Isabella posted a photo of the three of them on Instagram. At the same time, my son, Tyler, died in the very hospital where his father worked. The next day, I held a funeral for my son all alone. Three days later, I boarded a plane out of Seattle, clutching a photo of my son. It was only then that my husband, Ethan, found out Tyler was dead, started searching for me like a madman.

My girlfriend, Bethany Olsen, and I are known as the two pillars of the surgical department. Bethany is an extremely skilled surgeon who has developed her own unique surgical method. Meanwhile, I'm well-known for being able to deal with all sorts of complications and side effects, no matter how tough they are. Throughout our five years of relationship, Bethany keeps her guard around me to prevent me from learning her techniques. She refuses to let me watch her surgical footage. Even if we end up in the same surgery, she'll always hide the most critical step from me. She does all this simply because she's afraid that I might steal her job. Later on, my mom becomes terribly ill. Only Bethany is capable of performing a life-saving surgery on her. I get down on my knees and beg Bethany desperately to save my mom. Yet, she refuses to operate on my mom, no matter what. Bethany even sneers at me. "It so happens that your mom falls ill at such a right timing, eh? I think you just want me to operate on her right in front of you so that you can learn my techniques!" In the end, my mom's heart stops beating in the ICU. When I'm dealing with the postmortem process, I accidentally overhear Bethany's conversation with a colleague. "Gregory kneeled before you today, Bethany. I can't believe you still listened to Seth's advice by not performing the surgery on Mdm. Webber." Bethany says nonchalantly, "Actually, I was starting to doubt myself. Thank goodness Seth told me that it's almost time for our work performance to get evaluated. I'm very sure Gregory is trying to seize the opportunity to climb the career ladder. As if I'll let him have his way! "Besides, Gregory isn't my student at all. If anything does happen to his mom, I can take the liberty to let Seth handle it. I've already taught him everything I know, so right now, he lacks a patient to test his skills on." It turns out that Bethany isn't afraid of me stealing her job. It's just that I'll always be an outsider to her. I just turn on my heel and walk away without saying anything. After all, I still have to see my mom off one last time. As for Bethany, she has nothing to do with me the moment she refuses to perform the surgery on my mom.

"Sorry, Chloe. I really have an emergency!" After ten years of dating, my Alpha mate, Aiden Rothschild, made yet another excuse about handling pack affairs and left halfway through our candlelit dinner. Then, I saw a post by Aiden’s childhood sweetheart, Lana, on social media. In the photo, Aiden was gently holding her foot. [Twisted my ankle a little while cleaning the roof. It got better quickly, but Aiden still rushed over the moment he heard. No matter when I need you, you're always there. That's the reason I feel more blessed than any other woman!] In the past, I would’ve definitely confronted Aiden in anger, only to be scolded for being unreasonable. This time, though, I numbly finished my own meal in silence. I had promised my mentor I would soon leave for a secluded healing assignment in the Northern Territory. It wasn’t until I got in the car to leave the pack and tried to say goodbye to Aiden one last time that I received a video from Lana. It was her and Aiden playing Truth or Dare, calling each other "baby". I wiped away my tears and simply replied, "As long as you’re having fun." However, Aiden panicked. His eyes were red as he messaged me: [Chloe, why aren’t you even mad after seeing that? Do you even love me anymore?!] He tried to confront me in person, only to realize he couldn’t find me anywhere. That day, he completely broke down.