Doctor Romance Short Stories & Novels

My wife, Charlene Everett, and I used to work in the same hospital. I was known for being a kind doctor as well as a passionate teacher, while she was known for being a smart, fiery, and protective professional. All was well for the both of us until Charlene started caring about a clumsy trainee doctor called Zachary Wordsworth. I underestimated their relationship until the day he made a grave medical error, and she threw me to the wolves to protect him from his own mistakes. Indeed, Zachary cut a patient's womb out of her body mistakenly. The patient committed suicide not long after finding out. To avoid him being disciplined by the hospital, Charlene had the nurse in charge modify the records to have me as the surgery’s lead doctor. The patient’s family thought I was the one at fault and sued me. Everyone cursed me for being an unqualified doctor. Netizens made a huge ruckus online and started pressuring the hospital director to fire me. Helpless and in pain, I confronted Charlene, but she casually said, “Zach can’t handle the responsibility of failing the surgery. You’re more experienced, so you’ll be able to weather this storm.” When I later stumbled upon Charlene tangled up with Zachary, I could only let out a bitter laugh. I thus decided it was time for me to stop being kind.

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!"

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.

The mother of Mr. Burr, the hospital director, was critically ill and needed emergency surgery. My wife, wanting to help her beloved crush, Cedric Grey, take the spotlight, deliberately kept the surgery time from me. By the time I finally arrived—late, Mr. Burr stopped me from entering the operating room and scolded me harshly for being unprofessional and unethical. Once I realized what my wife was doing, I handed the lead surgeon position over to her beloved crush. “Well, since you're so eager to shine,” I said coldly, “you’d better not screw it up.” The nurses tried to talk me out of it. They said I was being impulsive, that this was a rare chance to prove myself. However, none of them knew that I was the only doctor in the entire country capable of performing this rare and complex heart valve surgery. Even if Cedric managed to buy time with some miracle drug and made it look like the patient was improving, without my diagnosis and surgical skills, the operation was doomed to fail. And when that happens, he’d be held responsible. As for my wife, her blind favoritism would come back to haunt her.

My mother-in-law's illness relapsed again, and only my husband, Xavier Grey could save her. However, Xavier, known as "The Healer", refused to leave the grave of his first love, Eve Parker. When I begged him, pleading desperately for help, he responded coldly, "What's this new trick of yours? Stay out of my sight!" In the end, my mother-in-law passed away in the emergency room. Yet, at the same time, his beloved first love returned from the dead. Now, standing before my mother-in-law's brand-new gravestone, Xavier finally went mad.

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 wife, Ivy Hart, is about to give birth to the baby she conceived with Toby Clayton, her first love. Her parents hire ten bodyguards to stand guard outside the delivery room. Cora Norris, Ivy's mother, takes Ivy's hand and remarks, "Don't worry, Ivy. We'll make sure he can't get within two feet of you! Your dad is standing guard outside with the bodyguards. If he dares to stop you from having the baby, we'll report him to the police!" Ivy nods, her complexion pale, but she instinctively looks toward the door anyway. She doesn't see why I can't be more understanding of her. All she wants to do is help Toby have a child to carry on his family name. The birth proceeds without me showing up to cause a scene. She smiles gladly when she sees the crying baby in the nurse's arms. She thinks to herself that if I visit her tomorrow, she is willing to forget all about our previous fights. She is even willing to let me be the baby's father. What she doesn't know is that I've already submitted my application to the Alliance of Nations. In seven days, I will be leaving the country to become a field doctor for the Frontline Medical Corp, a humanitarian organization. I won't be coming back ever again.

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.

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 return to the country after attending an international anesthesia academic conference. That's when I see the news of my boyfriend and twin sister getting married. I'm anxious to verify its authenticity, but my sister drugs me and induces me. "A substitute's child will only be an unwelcome bastard even if it's born. I'm just helping it move on to a better life." Then, she slices me open with a scalpel. She gouges my womb out, causing me to die from significant blood loss. Meanwhile, my boyfriend believes her lies. He's sure he's not the father of my child. He ignores my messages begging him to save me. Instead, he spreads the word about me eloping with someone else. He even wipes all traces of me from his life. "I will never see her again, forever and ever." Five years later, surveillance footage of my sister cruelly murdering me surfaces.

There is a medical dispute at the hospital. A patient's family member comes at us swinging a knife. Without hesitating, I push my husband, Maxwell Conner, out of the way. But then, he grabs my hand and pulls me in front of his beloved junior, Karina Burton. The knife plunges straight into my abdomen, killing the baby I had just conceived. As my horrified colleagues cry and rush me toward the ICU, Maxwell violently pulls me off the gurney. He barks, "Save Karina first! If anything happens to her, I'll fire every last one of you!" The doctors are stunned and furious. "Maxwell, have you lost your mind? Karina only suffered a minor injury. Your wife is the one in critical condition!" Clutching my bleeding abdomen, I nod slowly. "It's fine. Just forget it." Maxwell, I owe you nothing after this.

Seven years into our marriage, I went to the hospital as usual to bring Jason Gunn lunch. But as I stood outside his office, I overheard his colleagues teasing him about a patient, calling her his girlfriend. To my shock, Jason didn't deny it—he simply smiled and allowed it. I placed the lunchbox down and turned to leave. He rushed after me, angrily accusing me of being unreasonable. "Zara is just a patient, someone who had surgery. She can't be stressed out. I'm a doctor! Can't you, as my wife, understand that?" In the past, I would have exploded, causing a scene and making the entire hospital chaotic. But now, I didn't care anymore.

"Pregnant patient, corpus luteum rupture, heavy bleeding! We need a consent form signed—now!" I stood there holding the clipboard, waiting, when a voice I knew way too well cut through the chaos. "I'm here!" Jimmy. My husband. The same guy who vanished on our anniversary—now signing off on emergency surgery for another woman. He didn't even blink before writing "husband" on the form. Still had our wedding ring on, too. He didn't recognize me behind the mask. Just grabbed my hand and begged. "Please save her. It's my fault. She's pregnant. I messed up. I love her. I can't lose her." His grip tightened. My wedding ring slipped off and hit the floor. I didn't say a word. Just turned and walked into the OR. A doctor beside me, totally clueless, beamed and said, "Dr. Meyer, your test results came back—twins! Your husband's gonna be so happy. Congrats!" I smiled, barely. "Schedule the termination after surgery."

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.

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.

My fiancé is one of the country's top neurosurgeons. One day, he discovers that his childhood sweetheart has been diagnosed with cancer and only has a month to live. He wants to spend this time with her, so he feeds me a newly developed memory-wiping drug to make me forget him for a month. During that time, he throws his childhood sweetheart a wedding and goes on a honeymoon with her. As they stand amid an ocean of flowers, they vow to be together in another lifetime. One month later, he kneels before me in the rain. Tears stream down his face as he says hoarsely, "The drug's effects were only supposed to last for a month. Why have you permanently forgotten me?"

I haven't had my period in two months, and my mom assumes I must be pregnant. So, she marches me off to see a doctor. Of all people, the doctor on duty turns out to be my ex—the one I dumped two months ago. His face betrays nothing, his voice icy as he says, "Lie on the exam table. Lift your shirt and pull your pants down." When I don't follow his instructions quickly enough, he impatiently pulls my pants down himself. But once the curtain is drawn, he takes off his glasses and hovers over me. "We didn't even go all the way. So, why haven't you had your period in two months?"

Five days after I saved my girlfriend from an unhinged, violent patient, the wound on my arm tore open and got infected again. I wanted her to drive me to the hospital, but she spared me a glance before refusing, citing the need to avoid her being seen treating family. Left with no choice, I took a cab to the hospital by myself. Dizzy and weak from a burning fever, I lost my footing and tumbled down the stairs, injuring my foot in the fall. At that exact moment, my supposedly busy girlfriend, Stella Sloan, was gently supporting her young male intern and passing right by me to cut in line for emergency treatment. A nearby nurse quickly tried to smooth things over for her. “Dr. Sloan takes great care of all the new hires. Don’t worry, she’ll come and get you as soon as she’s done.” A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. She had registered me as a patient thirty-three times, yet my own girlfriend had never once picked up my medical chart. “Forget it. Don’t bother.” I stared up at the blinding glare of the fluorescent lights above. My ticket home was booked for two days from now, and my resignation letter had been approved. Stella, you and I are officially over.

My husband is my supervisor. Before the Day of the Dead comes, I submit an application for leave so I can pay my respects to my late mother. However, he refuses to approve my application. He insists on having me care for his childhood sweetheart, who got into an accident. He even berates me and tells me it's my duty to care for the patients. I can't second-guess them out of jealousy. But I saw him kissing his childhood sweetheart passionately in the hospital ward. He even slipped his hand underneath her clothes at the peak of his passion. "Let me check whether your wounds are better. Do you need more treatment?" She leans closer saucily, and he spanks her. "Do you think you'd be getting this treatment if not for Kaia being pregnant?" I look down at my baby bump as my heart shatters. No wonder he insisted on having me work despite me falling pregnant. How can he possibly love me? If that's the case, I'll give them my blessings.