Cerita Pendek Doctor Romance & Novel Cheating

Five years ago, I gave up my research achievements for love. Then, out of the blue, Marcus Parker's childhood friend made her return to the country. Using the excuse of playing truth or dare, they did everything that couples did together. I reminded Marcus not to go too far, but he just gave me a helpless look. "Claire, if I really had something going on with Hannah, I wouldn't have married you." I watched as he chose to abandon saving my mother for Hannah Carter's sake. He even hung up on me when I got into a car accident. When I woke up again, I learned that my unborn child, who was not three months old, had died in my womb. I finally gave up all hope and handed him the divorce papers. "Marcus, let's get divorced." A month later, I boarded a plane bound for Andoria.

I'm in the middle of my pediatric shift when an emergency call comes in. A three-year-old boy arrives, hemorrhaging and unconscious from a car crash, but there is no matching blood type in the bank. Then, it hits me that my husband, Ethan Stone, has the same blood type, so I ask him to donate blood right away. When he arrives and stands frozen to the spot, I can no longer hold back my rage. "What are you waiting for? Saving his life is the priority here!" That's when the boy's mother sprints over and screams, "No! Close family can't donate! He's the boy's father!"

I've planned seven wedding ceremonies in total, and not once has my fiance, Zachary Gardner, ever shown up for it. The first time, his adopted younger sister, Louise Foster, bursts into tears because she lost her passport at the airport. It was the dead of winter, but he dumped me by the side of the road and left me. The second time, Louise's dog sprained its ankle. Zachary stuffed the ring back into its box and rushed to the animal hospital to accompany her. Every time I argue with him about it, he declares nonchalantly, "We can get married anytime, but I can't let Louise be upset." Everyone around us agrees with him, saying that we're all family anyway, so I shouldn't be so petty. None of them has seen Zachary and Louise kissing fiercely on the dance floor. Today is the seventh wedding ceremony. Once again, he turns to leave after getting a call. I grab the corner of his shirt and say in a choked voice, "If you leave this time, Zachary, I won't marry you anymore." He stops in his tracks and peels off my fingers. "Wait for me," he says before rushing off. What he doesn't know is that this time, I won't be waiting for him any longer.

My wife has a severe sex addiction. But in the seven years we've been married, she never lets me touch her. To suppress her urges, she spends all day submerged in ice-cold water, and her arms are covered in needle marks. Several times, I try to initiate intimacy out of concern for her, but her reaction is terrifying. She even threatens to kill herself. "I told you, I only want a Platonic relationship in this lifetime. Can you stop being so selfish? If you insist on making me do that, I'd rather die!" she exclaims. She maintains this unusual obsession for seven years. Even after ending up in the hospital multiple times from suppressing her desires, she refuses to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a man comes in for a pre-check of his phalloplasty enlargement for the ninth time. After the anesthesia takes effect, he begins rambling incoherently. "Honey, I love you so much." Looking at the surgical scars, I shake my head, thinking this guy is really willing to go to extreme lengths for his wife. Then, I hear his final murmur. "Tasha, aren't I so much better compared to your useless husband?" My hand jerks, and I nearly drop the scalpel. It is because my wife's name is Tasha Snyder.

On my very first night working the overnight shift at the new hospital I've been transferred to, I run into my wife, Willow Jensen, who claimed she needed to be away on a year-long business trip. Now, she's lying on a gurney outside the delivery room, heavily pregnant, with blood pouring from beneath her. The man kneeling beside her grabs my hand tightly, his desperate pleas ringing in my ears. "Doctor, please! You have to save her!"

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!"

While strolling around the mall, I bend down to tie my shoelaces. When I lift my head again, my boyfriend, Lucas Carter, and my best friend, Kimberly Wendell, are already over 30 feet away. Just as I am about to catch up with them, I notice that the spot that should've been mine is slowly vanishing as the two walk closer and closer. Eventually, they are shoulder to shoulder as they talk about topics that I can't join in on. It's as though a third person was never there. During our university years, Lucas and Kimberly were known as the the school’s most promising “twin stars”. This continued even after we graduated, with them becoming the youngest chief physicians at the hospital. Meanwhile, no matter how hard I work, I can only trail behind them as an ordinary nurse. Lucas is always patting my head, saying, "You're cute, even when you're a little slow sometimes." Then he turns around and works seamlessly with Kimberly to perform one complex surgery after another. As I stare at their backs, I suddenly feel utterly exhausted. I no longer want to continue down this road, forever chasing after Lucas.

When a wave of labor pain brought me to my knees in the hospital hallway, Orson Caldwell, a brilliant doctor, was just about to wheel me into the delivery room. Just then, his phone rang. When he answered the call, his expression fell. "Seraphina, Cressie's teddy is having trouble giving birth. It's in critical condition, but the vet clinic in her town is closed. I have to perform a C-section on it." I clutched my stomach as blood slowly began to seep between my legs. "I'm fully dilated. If you leave now, what am I supposed to do?" Orson looked annoyed. "We'll get another doctor to do it. You're only giving birth, but Cressie's dog could die. I'll make it up to you and our child someday." With that, he rushed into the elevator without even taking off his white coat. I laughed through my tears, pulled out my phone, and called my father. "Dad, I'll agree to the arranged marriage."

My husband, Mason Crawford, is a renowned obstetrician-gynecologist with more thank-you greeting cards from patients than I can count. But when I start bleeding during my first trimester and rush to the hospital to see him, he kicks me out. "Family doesn't get special treatment. Hospital rules. You have to register and wait in line like everyone else." I take his words to heart. I never bother him, not once, for any of my prenatal checkups. That is, until his first love, Vivian Werner, who married and moved abroad, comes back pregnant. That's when everything changes. When Vivian comes in for her prenatal checkups, he personally pulls strings to arrange a VIP room for her. And the checklist of tests he draws up for her is even more detailed than the one he gave me. Vivian says she's scared something might happen to her baby, so he brings in the best medical team to watch over her 24/7. I find this unfair, so I complain to him about it a lot. But Mason simply wipes away my tears gently. "She's divorced and pregnant. She's already got it hard enough. Do you really have to be jealous over this, too?" Since I can't think of a comeback, I have no choice but to bite my tongue and bottle up my feelings. Then, on my way to get a fetal heart-rate monitoring test, I get into a car accident. I call him countless times, but he never comes to sign the consent forms. The surgery ends, and I hold our stillborn baby in my arms. I want him to come see our daughter one last time, but he still doesn't pick up. It isn't until the sun goes down that his buddy calls me with the "good news". "Leah, Vivian's given birth. It's a boy. I've never seen Mason's hands shake like that before. You should go get a gift and bring it here as soon as possible. Mason says he wants to become the baby's godfather." So this is why he hasn't picked up. He's busy delivering his ex-girlfriend's baby.

The ninth time I found a strange man's item in my fiancée's car, I picked up the ring and asked, "Whose ring is this?" "Are you doubting me again?" Olivia's voice dripped with impatience. She dialed a number with practiced ease. My sister picked up. "A man's ring? That's a gift I bought for Gregory. Seriously, bro? Olivia treats you like gold and you're still pulling this? Last time we all hung out, everyone was saying you're always accusing her of cheating. I didn't want to believe it, but wow." My best friend Gregory also chimed in when he heard. "Ethan, how do you expect Olivia to feel comfortable marrying you if you keep this up? Apologize. Now." The call ended. Olivia looked at me with that righteous expression, like she'd just won a court case. "Happy now? Can you stop accusing me?" But I was frozen. Every time I found men's items in her car, everyone around me would step up to explain it away and make me apologize. But none of them knew—that ring wasn't something someone left behind. It was something I bought for myself. A wedding gift. For our wedding. And it turned out to be the key that unraveled seven years of everyone covering for her affair.