Curing Samuel

And so, we began secretly dating.

After graduating from high school, we even chose to enter universities in the same city.

When our acceptance letters arrived, Samuel, filled with excitement, pulled me along as we entered a love hotel for the first time in our lives.

At the hotel, which only cost us 30 per night, we experienced the forbidden fruit.

But something went wrong with Samuel. His body didn't respond as it should.

That evening, we had our heads bowed over our phones as we looked up every website we could find for a possible solution. In the end, we concluded that he had dysfunction.

For a man, being unable to perform felt like a death sentence.

Samuel was a proud man.

Based on the medical advancements of that time, the chances of curing such an embarrassing disorder were low. He was very resistant to the idea of getting treatment as well.

That night, he was stuck between being mortified and humiliated.

"Hannah, let's break up. I… I can't get it up. You'll end up hating me."

However, young love was as perfect and long-lasting as the stars.

I walked over and tilted his head up so that I could stare into his eyes.

"It's okay, Samuel. You still have me. I'm going to study medicine, and I'll cure you."

His face flushed deeply.

"Tell me. If I'm your doctor, will you accept treatment?"

His eyes sparkled as he looked back into my eyes.

"I will!"

He was blushing hard as he wrapped his arms tight around me.

"Hannah, only you can be my doctor."

And so, when I entered university, I switched from studying finance to studying medicine.

The drastic change in my degree meant I had to work ten times harder than anyone else. Still, I chose that hellish path for Samuel's sake.

Four years later, I entered post-graduate studies. As for my specialty, I chose urology—specifically male urology, a field few women ventured into.

My mentor tried to dissuade me.

"Hannah, you are an exceptionally talented student, but your gender will limit you. I'm not saying you can't do it, but you're choosing a path that will make you work even harder than your peers. You'll face discrimination and prejudice."

Back then, I wasn't afraid of prejudice. My only goal was to cure Samuel.

With a family background in medicine, I had a natural talent for it.

After a year of internship at the hospital, my seniors and I succeeded in our research for minimally invasive treatments for male reproductive disorders that worked with the support of psychological intervention.

Samuel became our first patient.

It was also the first time I operated on someone. My hands trembled with nerves, but Samuel, lying there on the operating table, encouraged me.

"Hannah, be brave. I'm already useless in that area. If I'm cured, we'll get married. If not, I won't be a burden to you."

As the operating lights turned on, I reminded myself to be brave. It wasn't just for Samuel—it was for all the hard work I had poured into this moment.

With my seniors by my side, I performed my first minimally invasive surgery, making no mistakes.

To everyone's astonishment, the operation worked. Samuel gradually improved. After six months of care and rest, he was just like any other man.

Then, we got married and had Irene.

I never expected that Samuel wouldn't thank me for curing him.

In fact, he even found me revolting. He was so ungrateful.

Suddenly, the ringing of my phone snapped me out of my memories. It was a call from Samuel.

Samuel's Extreme Misogyny

The moment I answered the call, I was met with Samuel's irrational rant.

"Hannah, what are you up to? I could forgive you for abandoning me during Irene's birthday party, but why aren't you home yet?

"Since when did you become someone who stays out all night? Can't you be a good role model for our daughter?"

I couldn't help but find it amusing.

Samuel never came home before midnight in the past, yet now he was interrogating me for being out late and accusing me of being a bad role model for our child.

I cut the call mid-rant, unwilling to listen to his endless tirade.

When I finally arrived home, Samuel hadn't gone to bed. In fact, he looked like he was about to head out.

His face twisted with impatience the moment he saw me.

"Why are you still running away from home at your age?" he grumbled.

I looked up at the man standing before me.

After more than a decade as a businessman, Samuel had grown seasoned, with a mature, composed look in his eyes.

Thanks to my control over his diet, he hadn't gained any weight with age.

His waist was still as slim as it had always been, and with his broad shoulders, he radiated a unique, mature charm.

But as I stared at the man I had shared a bed with for five years, all I felt was a cold sense of detachment.

Perhaps he sensed the scrutiny in my gaze because his tone softened.

"Hannah, I'm embarrassed by your career choice. Why don't you quit your job?

"I'll take care of everything. It's only natural for men to be the breadwinners while women take care of the home, right?"

For some reason, hearing that made my chest ache. Samuel had always been able to dismiss my hard work and achievements with a single sentence.

"Samuel, I can't give up my job. And for what it's worth, I believe it has great value, even if the pay isn't high."

"Value? What value could there possibly be? You just want to prove you're successful, don't you? And how do you measure success? By being like me. By being rich.

"If you really want to prove yourself, fine. Quit your job at the hospital and be my private doctor. I'll pay you 100,000 a month, plus two months' bonus and even more at the end of the year. Is that enough?"

The more Samuel spoke, the more animated he became, almost caught up in a frenzy.

"Samuel, you're being unreasonable!"

As I watched his irritability grow, his extreme misogyny on full display, I suddenly understood the warning my mother had given me all those years ago.

"Hannah, a boy like Samuel might be smart and talented, but he has an inferiority complex and an inflated sense of pride. He's a suspicious man, always thinking others are looking down on him.

"Even if he becomes successful, he will always carry that insecurity. And one day, his jagged edges might hurt you."

Back then, I was blinded by my love for Samuel. I didn't take my mother's words to heart.

In the years that followed, he found his big break, establishing his own company in just a few years.

As he became more successful, my mother's worries faded, and she even started to think better of him.

But now, her old warning felt like a prophecy coming true.

After my shower, I grabbed my pillow and blanket and moved to Irene's room.

That night, the mere thought of the disdain he showed for me in that room sent waves of agony through me.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard the door creak open. Samuel tiptoed inside, and before I knew it, I could feel his minty breath brushing against my neck.

"Honey," he whispered softly, "Irene is three now. It's about time we had another, don't you think?"