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.”
