In an unnervingly calm tone, he replied, “She’s the new nanny we hired.”
It felt as though thunder exploded inside my skull, and a red haze clouded my vision.
Daddy?
He called me a nanny?
‘Why, Charlton?’ I wanted to ask. ‘If you wanted a divorce, if you wanted to start a family with another woman, couldn’t you have just told me? Why did you let that woman kill our child, then send me to prison and destroy my entire life?!’
The questions burned in my head, but my body wouldn’t move. I stood frozen at the doorway, my throat quivering as words scraped out.
“Charlton, you—”
“You’re out already? Why didn’t you let me know in advance?” he interrupted quickly, as if afraid of what I might say in front of the boy. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the house.
I looked at this man—so familiar, yet so foreign—and felt my heart nailed through with pain.
All the questions I had prepared for years lodged in my throat, unable to escape.
I could not accept that the man I had loved deeply for years had become this unfamiliar figure.
I remembered the day we met, both of us strangers in an online support group for victims of medical malpractice.
Both of our parents had died in medical accidents.
We comforted each other, supported each other, and swore to become doctors who would never repeat those tragedies.
We poured every coin into our studies.
In our tiny rented room, he had once held my hand and vowed, “I’ll become the best anesthesiologist. I’ll be your most reliable partner in the operating room.”
Later, we made it happen.
At the hospital, we were the couple everyone envied.
We spent our days in white coats saving lives and our nights eating instant noodles while watching movies.
Life was simple, not wealthy, but brimming with happiness.
The day I completed my first neurosurgery, he proposed to me.
The very next day, I discovered I was pregnant.
When I told him, his eyes reddened.
“Arizona, we finally have a family. I’ll protect you and our son for the rest of my life.”
Back then, I believed him.
But now, this same man stood before me, weaving a flimsy lie in a cold voice.
“The child is Mariam’s relative. His parents passed away, and he’s staying with us for now. He’s still young, Arizona. He doesn’t understand what happened, so don’t get the wrong idea and say anything that might upset him.”
As if nothing had happened, he even handed me clean clothes with feigned tenderness.