During the long holiday, to accommodate the travel plans of my hospital director wife, I—someone who hadn't taken a single day off all year—begged and groveled, burning through every last bit of goodwill in my department just to scrape together seven days of comp time so I could go with her.

But I waited at the airport from morning until night. After a hundred ignored calls, she finally rang me back, her voice totally casual.

"The signal's a nightmare out at the scenic area. I forgot to mention—Julian booked the tickets a day early by accident, so we're already at Tamoe Mount! Since you missed your flight anyway, just go back to the hospital and cover some shifts. It's the hospital's busiest time. Didn't you say everyone in your department was upset about you taking time off? Go make it up to them."

On the other end of the line, the wind was howling.

Her young colleague, laughing brightly, jumped in. "Hey, Rita, I had no problem switching my shifts. I guess he just slacks off too much—no wonder nobody likes him."

Not only did she not stand up for me, she actually agreed.

"You hear that, Kevin? Learn to play nicer with your coworkers. Stop obsessing over fun all the time. Then later, it'll be easier for me to push through your raise and promotion."

I didn't argue or make a scene. I just said "Got it," hung up, and walked straight to the hospital run by her biggest competitor.

"Are you still looking for a vice director? I work hard, I don't need weekends off, and as long as I get normal comp time, I'm good."

After deciding to jump ship to the other hospital after the holiday, I came back to Rita Owen's hospital and apologized to everyone in the department.

For the next seven days, I'd work my regular shifts so they could go enjoy their vacations.

As I was putting on my white coat, I heard people behind me slamming things around in frustration.

"Dr. Miller, do you think this hospital belongs to you? You take time off whenever you feel like it. You already wrecked my plans! I couldn't even take my son to the amusement park today!"

"Does he think he's Dr. Williams or something? Dr. Williams is the director's favorite. Some people have been here seven years and are still just attendings, yet they act like they run the place."

"Heh, he finally gets some time off and still gets stood up. I think his wife did it on purpose. Doesn't he realize he's being cheated on already?"

My hand paused while adjusting my collar.

Hospital policy required that out of the eight staff members in our department, at least five had to be on duty at all times.

Anyone who wanted comp time had to coordinate with their coworkers.

Because Rita and I had kept our marriage a secret, and because she bent over backward not to look like she was playing favorites—refusing to promote me or give me a raise—everyone assumed the director didn't like me and looked down on me.

After they figured out that Julian Williams was openly gunning for me, they started sucking up to him, and making fun of me became a daily routine.

This time, knowing I desperately needed their cooperation to swap shifts, they ragged on me mercilessly and piled on conditions before finally agreeing.

Last month, I submitted my promotion application for the seventh time. Half-jokingly, I told Rita that if I still didn't get promoted, I wouldn't be able to take the department's toxic atmosphere anymore and would quit.

She didn't give me a clear answer.

But when the promotion list came out, my name still wasn't on it.

Julian's was.

After just one year at the hospital, he had leapfrogged ranks and risen to the same level as me—yet she claimed she was just "helping out a junior."

In a fit of anger, I handed in my resignation letter.

Rita just smirked and said she wasn't falling for my little stunt.

Not even I had expected that I'd actually walk out for good.

Still, they'd gotten one thing right.

Rita's heart had stopped belonging to me a long time ago.

I turned around and looked coldly at the indignant crowd.

"You done? I don't owe any of you a damn thing. Every time you needed time off before, I covered your shifts without a single complaint. But the one time I ask for time off, all I get is nonstop grief.

"Don't mistake my patience for weakness. From now on, don't come asking me to operate on your relatives. I'm taking back the parking spots, too. And return every gift I ever gave your kids."

I'd always been mild-mannered and polite.

Seeing me suddenly lose my temper, everyone in the department looked a little shaken, though they still tried to talk back.

"We were just joking, Kevin. There's no need to be like this. We're all colleagues!"

"Exactly. Your wife stood you up, so don't take your anger out on us!"

I grabbed the patient chart folder and slammed it hard on the desk.

"In the past, I knew everyone had it hard, so I didn't bother keeping score. But since you all want to be so calculative, let's settle every single account fair and square."

Their expressions shifted. They all knew how much they'd benefited from me over the years. Muttering that they "wouldn't stoop to my level," they scattered like spooked birds.

Looking at the suddenly empty department, I pressed a hand to my temple.

Thankfully, once I got through these last few days, I'd finally be gone.

Rita might have treated me like dirt, but I still had a responsibility to my patients and my job. I wanted to see things through properly, from start to finish.

After that, no one in the department dared say anything to my face again. Instead, they just stopped talking to me altogether, clearly trying to ice me out.

I couldn't have cared less.

Before I knew it, the last day of the holiday arrived.

It was also my final day at the hospital.

I had just finished packing my things when a commotion broke out outside the room.

In the hallway, Rita and Julian appeared in matching red-and-blue outdoor jackets. She was gorgeous, he was handsome, and together they drew endless compliments from the crowd.

The two of them looked travel-worn as they handed out little souvenirs to every department.

When they got to me, Julian suddenly said, "Oh no, how could I forget Kevin?"

I wasn't surprised in the least.

Ever since his first day as an intern—when he complained that the nurses were pushing meds too slowly and tried to do it himself, completely unaware that injecting potassium chloride too fast could stop someone's heart—I had considered him totally lacking in medical ethics and common sense. We'd had a huge fight over it.

From that day on, he treated me like his number one enemy. Not only did he encourage everyone to pick sides, he constantly fawned over Rita and stirred up trouble between us.

So now that he had "accidentally" left me out of the gifts, I found it completely predictable.

As usual, Rita didn't catch the hostility behind it. She gently reassured him.

"You didn't do it on purpose."

Trying to smooth things over, the others quickly changed the subject and started joking around.

"Dr. Williams, looks like you and the director had quite the fancy long weekend. You're even wearing matching outfits now. When are you treating us to wedding champagne?"

Julian shot me a sideways glance.

"Soon, soon!"

Smiling faintly, Rita replied, "These jackets are windproof. Essential gear for traveling in the mountains. Don't read into it."

After a few more polite remarks, she and Julian headed upstairs together.

The director's office was on the upper floor. To avoid suspicion, she had never let me up there.

Yet just because Julian once said he wanted to stay closer to her, she had personally cleared out a partitioned space inside her own office for him.

I pulled the divorce agreement I'd printed out long ago from my bag and silently followed them upstairs.

Today was my last day anyway. The perfect chance to finalize the divorce and avoid any messy complications later.

The moment I reached the office door, I looked through the window.

I saw Rita casually helping Julian into his white coat, fastening his name badge for him. Then she rose on her toes and affectionately ruffled his hair.

A sharp pain clenched around my heart before I could stop it.

I raised my hand and knocked.

"Come in."

Rita's voice was cold.

I opened the door and immediately noticed the humidifier in the corner, quietly puffing mist into the air.

Following my gaze, Julian looked smug.

"Rita felt bad because I wash my hands so often, so she got this for me. She even bought me a whole box of hand cream. I heard each tube costs over seventy bucks. It'd be a shame if they expired. Want me to give you one?"

The favored always act fearless.

Clinical surgery required constant scrubbing. I had washed my hands until the skin cracked open. They were always dry and peeling, and every time they touched water, the pain shot straight to the bone.

Once, I'd simply prescribed myself a cheap ointment for my hands—the kind that costs about a dollar.

Rita scolded me for being dramatic.

The difference between being loved and unloved was painfully obvious.

Before I could speak, Rita frowned impatiently.

"Didn't I tell you not to come upstairs? What if people get the wrong idea? What do you want?"

I simply handed her the divorce agreement, already opened to the signature page.

Without even looking up, she pulled the pen from her pocket, signed it, stuffed the papers back into my hands, and said coldly, "Now get out."

I lowered my gaze and turned away.

Then she suddenly realized something was wrong and called after me.

"What did you just make me sign?"

"Divorce papers," I answered calmly.

She sucked in a sharp breath and immediately lunged to snatch them back.

I didn't give her the chance. I raised my arm high above my head, keeping the papers well out of her reach.

"Rita, in one month, we'll get divorced."

A flicker of delight flashed through Julian's eyes. Deliberately, he stepped in front of Rita, blocking her from grabbing the agreement.

But his tone was full of fake concern.

"Kevin, are you really making a scene about divorce in front of me just because Rita and I wore matching jackets and everyone teased us? If you like it that much, I'll give you mine."

Rita finally snapped out of it and let out a mocking laugh.

"Kevin, just because someone made a joke, you want a divorce?

"I was actually thinking that since you'd behaved yourself these past few days, I'd take you out somewhere in a couple of days. But you've really let me down.

"Wasn't everything perfectly fine over the holiday?"

Perfectly fine?

Back when I worked in the ER, distraught family members would often grab my collar, sobbing and demanding:

"They were perfectly fine before coming to the hospital! How did something happen the minute they got here?!"

But if they were truly "perfectly fine," why would they come to the hospital in the first place?

The warning signs had always been there.

It's just a fever. Nothing serious.

Just a little cough. Nothing serious.

My marriage with Rita had been exactly the same.

She said it was just dinner with Julian because he was new to the hospital.

Just checking on him because the power had gone out at his apartment.

Just giving him special treatment during his internship and teaching him personally.

Just spending the long weekend traveling with him and standing me up after I'd begged so long for that trip.

Back then, I was buried under endless hospital work and lied to myself that our stable life was still intact.

I didn't want to doubt her. I didn't want to doubt the seven years we had spent together.

But now, all the love had worn away, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion.

Just then, the receptionist burst in frantically.

"Director! A patient's family is causing a scene in the lobby! You need to come right now!"

Rita's expression sharpened, and she rushed out the door.

I followed after her.

In the lobby, several family members stood holding bullhorns and signs. Beside them sat a patient in a hospital gown, pale-faced in a wheelchair.

The moment they saw Rita arrive surrounded by staff, they immediately shouted into the bullhorn, "My daughter had a tumor removal surgery at your hospital not long ago, but she kept complaining about stomach pain! Today she came back for a checkup, and we found out your hospital left a scalpel inside her! Tell us how you're going to compensate us!"

Then the next words hit me like a bolt of lightning.

"Dr. Kevin Miller! You heartless butcher pretending to be a doctor! Nobody should ever let him treat them!"

Me?

Impossible.

I would never make such a basic mistake.

And I had a photographic memory. I remembered every patient's condition and treatment history. I didn't recognize this patient at all.

Someone shoved me forward from behind.

"Dr. Miller! Hurry up and take responsibility already! The hospital's about to fall apart!"

I forced myself to stay calm.

"Please, I understand you're upset, but have you mistaken me for someone else? I never performed this surgery."

The woman who seemed to be the patient's mother collapsed onto the floor and started wailing, slapping the ground.

"What a sin! I even gave your assistant a lot of money! He said you'd personally perform the surgery, and that's why we came here because of your reputation! And now you made a surgical mistake and won't even admit it?!"

My face went blank with shock.

Taking bribes was no small matter.

"Please calm down. Tell me exactly when the surgery took place. Once I check the security footage, we'll know what really happened."

"No need to investigate." Rita's cool voice cut sharply through the noisy lobby, calm but abrupt.

I thought she was trying to cover things up and immediately frowned.

"No. This is a serious medical accident. We have to investigate."

"Are you deaf? I said there's no need to investigate!"

Her voice suddenly rose, sharp enough to silence the entire lobby. Her beautiful face was tight with severity.

Then my gaze lowered. Behind her, Julian clutched tightly at her wrist, looking visibly guilty.

In that instant, realization struck me.

Julian was behind this again, and Rita had chosen to protect him.

Yet before this, during a twenty-hour precision surgery I once performed, I had become so physically exhausted that I drank a two-dollar bottle of glucose midway through the operation. By accident, it had been added to the patient's family's bill.

When the family raised hell afterward, Rita forced me to bow and apologize. She said she had principles and boundaries and wouldn't go easy on me just because I was her husband.

Before I could even process what was happening, I watched helplessly as Rita stepped forward with an apologetic expression.

"This is entirely my fault for failing to manage my staff properly. I apologize on his behalf. The hospital will waive all treatment fees, provide additional compensation, and arrange for our most experienced doctor to perform the patient's second surgery. As for Dr. Miller's unethical conduct, I promise I will give you a satisfactory explanation!"