After Saving His Lover’s Life, I Chose to Walk Away

Chapter 3

"Oops, so sorry, Amanda! I meant to send this to Henry, but I hit the wrong person by accident. You didn't see anything, right?"

Before I could even type a reply, she kept going, "Your profile pictures look so similar, I mixed them up by mistake. I'll have him change it, okay? So I don't mess it up again next time."

I didn't reply. I also knew Henry would never change that profile picture anyway.

That photo had been taken by his late mother, years ago. I'd once begged him to let us use matching couples profile pictures, and he'd shot me down sharply.

He'd even called me childish for asking.

Stubborn and petty, I'd found a picture almost identical to his, and set it as mine to make our own unofficial matching set.

He never said anything about it, so I'd taken his silence as agreement.

But when I refreshed the page a moment later, my stomach dropped. Henry's profile picture was now a cartoon, one matching exactly with Linda's.

My fingers trembled so badly I could barely click as I hit refresh over and over, double-checking, triple-checking, desperate for this to be wrong.

Then I laughed a bitter, self-mocking laugh. Five years of marriage still couldn't beat ten days with her.

Right then, fireworks bloomed in the sky not far from downtown, and Linda posted a new update on i********:.

She was standing on a rooftop, wrapped in Henry's arms, with a sky full of blazing, glittering fireworks exploding behind them.

The caption read:

Happy ten days.

I froze, my hand moving unconsciously to rub the inked numbers on my wrist.

It was the same day. Today was my and Henry's fifth wedding anniversary.

The first mistress Henry took was a rebellious girl covered head to toe in tattoos.

That was the first time I threw all dignity to the wind and blew up at him. The first time I sobbed and screamed in front of him, demanding he kick her out of his life.

He'd just stood there and watched me lose my mind, then gently promised it was nothing but a fling, that my place as his wife was never in any danger.

But still, he'd slip out of bed beside me in the middle of the night, gone to go be with that other woman.

Desperate, I got a tattoo just like hers, inked our wedding anniversary right into my skin, crazily hoping it would make him love me.

When he saw it, he just huffed a snort of laughter and said, "Amanda, go get it lasered off. It's ugly."

His words cut deep, and I drifted off to sleep tangled in those old memories, and spent the whole night trapped in a string of nightmares.

I finally jolted awake to the shrill, insistent shriek of my phone ringtone. The sky wasn't even fully light yet.

The hospital director's voice came through, sharp and breathless, "Amanda Sylvester, did you perform Linda Brown's hymenoplasty?

"There's been a complication. Get to the hospital right now."

*****

By the time I rushed into the hospital, all I could hear was Linda's piercing shrieks.

The second she spotted me, she jabbed a trembling finger right at my face and screamed, "Did you do this to hurt me? You're just jealous of me! You're jealous that Henry would rather sleep with me than touch you, so you deliberately messed me up down there!"

As she ranted, she clung tight to Henry's arm, sobbing prettily with tears streaming down her face, "Henry, I'm bleeding so much… it hurts so bad."

When Henry's gaze landed on me, his face hardened into a dark, thunderous scowl.

"Amanda, apologize to Linda."

I grabbed my medical equipment and locked eyes with him, my voice steady as I said, "Before anyone jumps to conclusions, don't I at least get to examine her first?"

But Linda scrambled backward in a panic, screaming, "No! I don't want this quack touching me!

"I'm scared I'll never be able to be with Henry ever again!"

Henry pulled her tight into his chest and soothed her gently.

Left with no other choice, the director brought in another doctor, Marcus Foreman, one of my former classmates who'd never liked me.

Thirty minutes later, the procedure was done.

He pulled out a blood-soaked piece of gauze, no bigger than a fingernail.

Henry glowered at me, his brows twisted tight, and snapped, "You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

I stared at Marcus in complete disbelief, my voice shaking as I said, "How could I? I've never messed up this simple procedure, not once in all my years practicing."