My Lover's Intern Made Me Infertile

During my uterine tumor surgery, just as things seemed to be progressing smoothly, Dr. Finley Peterson suddenly set down his scalpel and paused. He turned to the intern, Dr. Ashley Moore, who had been observing, with a soft, encouraging look in his eyes.

"Ashley, I trust you. Just follow the steps we've practiced—there’s no rush," he said. "You've been nearly flawless in training. You’re ready for this. Believe in yourself."

But something went wrong. An accident occurred, and because of it, I lost the ability to have children. The scar left behind, a glaring reminder, stretched across my abdomen.

When I demanded answers, Finley snapped, not at me, but at Ashley. "Enough! Every surgery carries risks! You were just unlucky to be part of the rare, worst-case scenario. Why can’t you let it go?"

"Besides," Finley added sharply, "you never even wanted kids in the first place. Ashley just made your dream come true!"

Looking at him, my heart sank, and exhaustion washed over me. "Fine then," I said coldly. "Why don’t you marry her instead?"

——

"Natalia!" Finley snapped, frustration flickering in his eyes. "How long are you going to keep this up? This is ridiculous! We’re getting married soon. What's the point of calling it off now?"

He couldn’t believe what I was saying. The wedding was planned down to the last detail—the dress, the makeup artist, the diamond ring, even the hotel were all set. Everything was ready, just waiting for me to recover from surgery.

But as he looked at me, expecting me to back down, I met his gaze without wavering. Slowly, I opened my surgical gown, revealing the jagged, ugly scar that stretched across my lower abdomen.

"Does this look like the dream I wanted?" I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of betrayal.

The stitches were still raw and unremoved, making the scar look even more grotesque. I pulled the gown open wider, my voice sharp with hurt and anger. "So what? Are you just going to ignore this, Finley?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly losing patience. "I’ve already told you," he sighed, frustration seeping into his voice. "In all my years in this field, I’ve seen cases like this. It was a freak medical accident. You just happened to be the outlier with the lowest probability."

He gestured toward my scar without a hint of sympathy. "It only happened because Ashley was the one operating. You’re blaming her for something that could’ve happened to anyone."

His tone hardened, cold and detached. "If another surgeon had been there, no one could’ve guaranteed success either. You’re a medical professional yourself, Natalia. Don’t you understand this?"

I let out a bitter laugh, disbelief mixing with disgust. "Oh, I understand," I said, eyes narrowing. "But what I also understand is that you'd rather protect your little apprentice than take responsibility for what you’ve done to me."

"Just because I'm also a medical practitioner doesn’t mean I should accept this outcome. Even if I was unlucky this time, can you guarantee your team’s performance was objective and stable?" I demanded, my voice sharp. "Do you even know if she had other thoughts clouding her judgment during the operation, Finley?"

Finley's eyes widened in fury, and he practically shouted, "What are you implying? That I would compromise my medical ethics? This is ridiculous! You're being completely unreasonable!"

He continued, his tone cutting. "Besides, you’ve always said you didn’t want children. Isn't losing your fertility exactly what you wanted?"

He sneered at me, growing even bolder. "You want to talk about subjective bias? How can I be sure you didn’t subconsciously want this outcome? As a doctor, it’d make things easier for you, wouldn’t it?"

I stared at him in disbelief. His accusations were so absurd they were almost laughable. Was he seriously suggesting I would sabotage my own surgery?

"You think I’d risk my life just to make a point?" I scoffed, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Who's crazy here—me or you, Finley?"

Without another word, I waved my hand, signaling for calm. "Enough. Let’s not make this uglier than it already is. But know this—I will sue."

Finley finally seemed to realize what was happening and sneered. "Ah, I see it now. This has nothing to do with the surgery, does it? You’re just targeting Ashley. You never liked how close she’s gotten to me since she started at the hospital. You couldn’t stand it when the higher-ups assigned her to work under me, right?"

His voice dripped with arrogance. "We’re in different departments, but you’re jealous of her being around me, assisting me in surgery, working with me. Your real goal is to get her fired by suing her."

He stepped closer, his tone turning cruel. "Don’t be so unreasonable, Natalia. You and I are getting married—it’s a fact you can’t change. Stop embarrassing yourself. Who else would want you now, after everything? All you’re doing is pushing me further away."

I stared at him, my expression cold and indifferent. How could he be so blind, so confident in his twisted reasoning? "Really?" I said, my voice steady and unshaken. "Think whatever you want, Finley. But I’m canceling the engagement."

"The wedding dress, the hotel—whatever can be refunded, I’ll handle it. As for the rest, I’ll pay you back. But one thing’s for sure—I will never marry you."

Just as I finished speaking, I heard the door swing open behind me. Before I could turn around, a sharp slap landed across my face. The sting was immediate, and the force took my breath away.

It was my mother, Andrea Adams, glaring at me with fury in her eyes. "What on earth do you think you’re doing?" she screamed. "How dare you speak to Finley like that? How did I end up with a daughter like you!"

I clutched my cheek, feeling the heat and shock of the slap radiating through me. My eyes locked on hers, filled with disbelief at the intensity of her anger.

I could understand my mother’s reaction, as much as it hurt. After all, my relationship with Finley had been a point of contention for years. We’d been together since college, and she was against it from the start. It wasn’t just Finley’s humble beginnings she disapproved of—his rural background didn’t sit well with her ambitions for me—but she also doubted his potential. She couldn’t see a future where he’d amount to much.

But Finley proved her wrong. Through sheer determination, he climbed from being the boy my mother once sneered at to becoming a respected young doctor at the hospital. That transformation changed everything for her. Her disdain had turned to praise, and she’d fully embraced him as the son-in-law she never thought she wanted, practically fawning over him at every opportunity.

I knew, deep down, my mother’s support wasn’t about me. It was about securing her own future through me. As my father had passed away when I was young, it had always been just the two of us. She was far more concerned about whether I would marry well than about my happiness. I was her only daughter, and she saw my marriage as her lifeline.

Because her future depended on it.

After Finley and I graduated, we got engaged, just like any other couple ready to start their lives together. We were preparing to walk down the aisle, but everything began to change when Ashley entered the picture.

Finley insisted their relationship was purely brotherly, but I could see it—it was more than that. He cared for Ashley in ways he never did for me, his fiancée. He began working late, claiming it was for surgeries, but when I checked with his colleagues, I found out the truth: he was spending that time with Ashley.

They stayed in the hospital together until late at night, working side by side—running experiments, analyzing cases, collaborating in ways that slowly shut me out. And the final blow? During my own surgery, the one meant to secure our future, he entrusted Ashley to take the lead.

Yes, surgeries carry risks. And, yes, Ashley’s previous results were flawless—every exam she took, she passed. All the evidence pointed to a freak medical accident.

But I can’t forgive her. No matter how logical it seems, she’s the reason I ended up like this.

Even if the evidence suggests it was an accident, what about the shift in her subjective intentions? What about the physical and emotional damage this has caused me? Whether or not I planned to have children, the scars—both seen and unseen—are real. From the moment I was placed on that operating table and Ashley became the surgeon, everything changed. There was no clarity from then on.

My mother, ever quick to switch sides, turned to Finley, her voice dripping with concern. "Finley, don’t worry. I’ll talk to her. Your relationship—years of love—won’t fall apart over something so trivial."

Finley didn’t even acknowledge her. He simply turned and walked away, not bothering to respond, leaving me standing there with my face still stinging from the slap.

I touched my cheek, feeling a sharp pang that wasn’t just physical. In that moment, I questioned everything—whose mother was she, really? How could she so easily take his side? I stared at her, wondering how someone could be so heartless.

And then, predictably, she turned on me. "Look at what you’ve done," she complained, her voice full of blame, as if I was the one ruining everything.

“Live a good life with Finley and stop being so suspicious all the time. He’s successful now—you should be happy for him!”

“Besides, you're getting married! What are you doing?”

“Everyone has been notified! You said you didn’t want to get married. Where do you expect me to save face now?”

“Can’t you be more filial? You were the one who wanted to be with him! I supported your decision! So why are you acting like this? We can’t let something like this happen during an operation!”

Listening to my mother’s words, I felt a chill run down my spine. I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Mom, do you have any idea that I nearly died on that operating table? And you want me to just move on and live happily with Finley? Have you even considered my feelings?”

Her expression shifted to my words, and she resorted to her usual tactic of using guilt to manipulate me. “How can you say that? Are you just mad at me? Finley is now the department director! Just get married and enjoy life with him! Stop being so picky! Who else would want you if not him? You need to reflect on your behavior!”

With that, she turned and left the room, leaving me to stare at her retreating figure, bitterness welling up inside me.

I picked up my phone and began typing out my experience online. The title read: My Fiancé’s Indulgence in His Intern Caused a Medical Accident That Left Me Infertile.

When I logged into social media again, I was taken aback by the flood of tens of thousands of likes and countless private messages. My post had gone viral, landing on the trending topics and drawing intense criticism from netizens. Some had even traced my IP address to discover the hospital where Finley worked, and they identified the surgical team involved on the day of my operation.

As a result, Finley and Ashley quickly became targets of online outrage, and the hospital itself faced scrutiny.

Meanwhile, I lay in my hospital bed, still recovering, when Finley, my mother, and Ashley entered the room together. They formed a tight circle around me, their expressions a mix of concern and something else—defensiveness?

As I processed the situation, I anticipated what was coming. I braced myself for the confrontation that was about to unfold.

“Natalia, why are you being so unreasonable? What good will this do for you, for me, or for your fiancé?” Ashley's voice trembled as tears streamed down her cheeks. It was evident that the backlash had taken a toll on her; the netizens had not only unearthed her university details but had also exposed her home address. Suddenly, all her private information was out in the open, and she was visibly shaken by the consequences.

My mother let out a heavy sigh, her gaze filled with disappointment. “You really don’t understand, do you? I only said a few things to you yesterday. Why did you have to go and post this online? The internet is not a kind place. Don’t be so extreme, Natalia. This won’t do you or Finley any good.”

“You’re getting married soon!” she added, her tone sharp with urgency.

Just then, I could hear the commotion outside. It sounded like reporters and onlookers had gathered, blocking the hospital entrance, and I realized the storm I had unleashed was far from over.

The hospital administration finally took notice of the situation and decided to suspend my case for the time being. I had no choice but to pack my things and head home temporarily. At least I could rest well there; after all, rest was what I needed right now.

“Honestly, aren’t you just asking for trouble?” My mother nagged as she helped me pack, her voice laced with frustration. Meanwhile, Finley was much more straightforward.

“Natalia, you brought this on yourself. You deserve it.”

Ashley, her eyes glistening with tears, interjected softly, “I’m so sorry, Natalia. This is all my fault. Can you consider changing the article you posted online?”

She continued, taking the blame entirely upon herself. “Just put all the mistakes on me. I’m willing to accept responsibility. My lack of experience caused this mess.”

I watched her self-recrimination unfold, feeling a mix of frustration and disbelief.

“Natalia, you need to delete that article and apologize. The situation is too volatile,” my mother urged, her tone more serious now. “I advise you not to waste public resources like this.”

“Please, delete it and apologize, Natalia. It would give us some room to maneuver,” Finley added, his voice tense with urgency.

“Natalia, I’m begging you. If you delete it, I’ll apologize to you—just like that,” Ashley pleaded, desperation etched on her face.

...

As I faced the three of them pleading with me, I slowly peeled an apple, savoring each deliberate motion. Once they finished speaking, I took a crisp bite, the crunch echoing in the tense atmosphere.

"I refuse."

The shock on their faces was palpable; they had never witnessed my stubbornness like this before.

The hospital notified me that I needed to move out by the afternoon. I packed my belongings and returned home, sinking into a much-needed nap.

When I woke up, the house was quiet—no one was around. I sat up and grabbed my phone, only to see another hot topic trending at the top of my feed.

"Doctor Clarifies the Facts: Everything Was Directed and Acted by Himself."

Curiosity piqued, I clicked on the trending news and watched Finley’s video. Dressed in a crisp white coat, he spoke calmly to a swarm of reporters surrounding him.

“Hello everyone, I’m Finley, the attending physician involved in this incident. I called you here today to clarify the recent misuse of public resources.”

I raised an eyebrow, wondering if the pressure from public opinion and higher-ups had finally compelled Finley to take responsibility.

But then he said something that left me stunned.

“First, I apologize on behalf of my fiancée. I regret that she misused public resources with false information, leading to online harassment. I didn’t manage her properly and allowed her to act inappropriately. I’m very sorry.”

I widened my eyes in disbelief at the shutter clicks of the cameras capturing the moment. But it was his next statement that hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Natalia’s real intention was to extort money. This whole situation was orchestrated by her; it was all an act.”