My Husband's Mistress

Under the Surface

Chapter Seven: Under the Surface

The morning sun spilled through the hospital windows as Melanie tightened the cuffs on her white coat and checked her watch. Her day had started early, the sterile hum of the emergency room already buzzing with life as patients arrived, wheeled in or escorted by cautious loved ones. Melanie breathed in deeply, centering herself. This was her sanctuary, where she could focus, where logic ruled over emotion, and where lives depended on her steady hands and clear mind.

But even in this controlled chaos, the echoes of Samantha and Mark haunted her thoughts, threading through every moment like an invisible undertow.

“Dr. Gamboa, room seven,” the nurse called urgently.

Melanie ducked into the cubicle to find a middle-aged man gripping his chest, pale and sweaty, beads of fear glistening on his forehead.

“Mr. Larson, I’m Dr. Gamboa. Tell me what’s happening.”

“Chest pain… pressure… started about an hour ago,” he gasped, voice barely above a whisper.

Melanie’s professional instincts kicked in immediately. She began her assessment, ordering an EKG and prepping medication. Her hands moved with practiced precision, yet her mind momentarily drifted to Samantha’s last words. “The perfect act is far from over.” Those words weighed heavy, a foreboding shadow she couldn’t shake.

The hours blurred as patients came and went. Melanie navigated a delicate balance between life and death, offering hope and comfort in equal measure. As she straightened a drip line for a young woman recovering from surgery, her phone vibrated quietly in her pocket.

A message from Mark. “Thinking of you. Hope your day is going well.”

Melanie’s lips curved into a fleeting smile. Their slow, budding relationship had become a fragile thread of comfort she desperately clung to amid the storm. But even as she replied with a quick, “Thank you. Can’t wait to see you.” a flicker of doubt pricked her heart.

The weight of Samantha’s looming presence wasn’t far behind.

Later that afternoon, Melanie was rushing between patients when her pager buzzed insistently. Another emergency. She sprinted down the hallway to find a young boy, no older than ten, pale and clutching his side. His mother hovered nearby, eyes wide with worry.

“Dr. Gamboa, please!” the mother begged. “He fell off his bike, he’s been crying, but now he won’t move.”

Melanie knelt beside the boy, carefully examining him. The signs pointed toward internal injury, a subtle bruise, tenderness impossible to ignore.

“I’m going to order a CT scan to make sure, but we need to act fast.”

As she directed the nurses, Melanie’s mind raced beyond the room, imagining how fragile life could be. In contrast, her own life felt dangerously entwined with fragility of a different kind.

That evening, after a long shift, Melanie returned home exhausted but determined to steady her thoughts. She sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through emails when her phone rang. It was Samantha.

“Mel, are you free? There’s something you need to know,” Samantha’s voice was tight, urgent, breaking through the fatigue.

“I’m just getting off work,” Melanie replied cautiously. “What is it?”

“Can I come over? Please. It’s important.”

Against her better judgment, Melanie agreed.

When Samantha arrived, her eyes were wild, her breathing shallow, as if she’d been running a long race. In her hands was a clutched envelope, a letter peeking from the top.

“I’ve been doing some digging,” Samantha confessed, pacing nervously. “There’s more to Mark’s past than you realize.”

Melanie’s heart pounded. “What do you mean?”

Samantha tore open the envelope and pulled out a stack of documents. Bank statements, emails, and photographs. “These prove Mark was involved in some questionable business before. Not just some innocent mistakes. He’s been hiding it.”

Melanie frowned, scanning the papers. Part of her wanted to dismiss this as another of Samantha’s manipulations. But the evidence was undeniable.

“How could he hide this?” Melanie whispered, betrayal creeping back into her voice.

Samantha’s eyes sparked with fierce satisfaction, but then softened. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Mel. I was trying to protect you. But now you have to know.”

The revelations rocked Melanie’s world, but her life as a doctor demanded focus. The next morning, she strode into the hospital, determined to put her personal chaos aside.

In the operating room, Melanie scrubbed in for a complicated heart surgery. The patient, a woman in her fifties, had suffered a critical blockage and was relying on Melanie’s skills to survive.

As the hours crawled on, Melanie’s mind flickered back to Mark and the documents. How well did she truly know the man she was trying to rebuild a life with? Was the warmth in his eyes genuine, or merely another part of a carefully curated mask?

After a successful surgery, Melanie stepped into the quiet hallway, washing her hands and catching her breath. Her phone buzzed again, a message from Mark. “We need to talk.”

The timing sent a ripple of unease through her. Could there be more secrets waiting?

That evening, they met at a small, dimly lit bistro. A place Melanie had suggested for its quiet comfort.

Mark arrived looking tired but earnest. “Mel, I wanted to come clean about everything. I know I haven’t been transparent about my past, about Samantha.”

Melanie’s gaze narrowed. “Why now?”

“Because I care about you,” Mark said sincerely. “And because things have been spiraling, the lies, the secrets they’re catching up with all of us.”

The raw honesty in his voice shook her. For a fragile moment, Melanie allowed herself to hope that they could weather the storm.

But as Mark reached across the table to take her hand, Melanie caught a glint of something in his eyes. A fleeting flicker of fear or maybe guilt.

Across the room, unnoticed, Samantha sat alone, her eyes locked on them like a hawk. Her expression was unreadable, but within simmered a dangerous resolve.

Behind the fragile veneer of their fragile romance, the battle lines had been drawn.

Later that night, Melanie sat at her desk, exhausted but unable to sleep. She reviewed the stack of patient files waiting for her in the morning, simultaneously lost in a sea of emotions.

The perfect act seemed to be coming unraveled, not just in her personal life but across every part of her world.

How long could she keep the balance between healer and woman, protector and prey?

As the city lights flickered outside her window, Melanie realized that sometimes the most devastating wounds were invisible, and the healing she sought might have to begin with herself.