Thanks for Making Me Hate You

My daughter, Annabelle Turner, was diagnosed with hereditary heart disease. I spent the past five years searching for a compatible heart donor for her.

Now, I finally found one.

Right before Annabelle is sent into the surgery room, my husband and renowned cardiologist, Gabriel Turner, tearfully makes me a promise.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure Annabelle gets a shot at life again."

Yet halfway through the surgery, Gabriel suddenly leaves in a hurry without giving any explanation.

I stumble into the surgery room and see Annabelle lying on the operating table, covered in blood. Her chest is cut wide open, laid bare for all to see.

Tyler Rotwell, Gabriel's assistant, stammers out, "Dr. Turner said… that Anna can still hold on a little longer, but Ms. Byron's son can't.

"Dr. Turner took the heart that was meant for Anna and left…"

I immediately break down and repeatedly call Gabriel's number, but Gabriel never answers a single call, not even when Anna's blood has completely dried…

While settling my daughter's post-mortem affairs, I happen to see a newly posted update on Gabriel's childhood friend, Suzanne Byron's social media.

"Turns out it was just a misdiagnosis," was what the caption read. "In that case, let's give this useless little thing to our good boy Oscar as a treat!"

The video attached depicts Suzanne's dog Oscar tearing into the heart that was supposed to be donated to Annabelle.

As I turn to look at Annabelle's cold body, the last shred of love I have for Gabriel starts crumbling apart.

By the time Gabriel finally remembers Annabelle, whom he left on the operating table, only an empty bedroom and an urn containing her ashes would greet him…

I signed Annabelle's death declaration form two hours later and helped the doctor wheel her body into the morgue.

As late as it was, Gabriel gave me a call just then. The sound of loud music filled my ears the moment the call went through. He seemed to be in a good mood as he asked loudly, "What's with all the calls, Rhea? Does Annabelle miss me already?"

I ground my teeth and cut him off with an angry yell. "Why did you leave halfway through Annabelle's heart surgery? You promised me you would make sure Annabelle got a new chance at life, Gabriel Turner!"

Gabriel grew silent for several seconds over the call.

He then said in a nonchalant tone, "I'm sorry, Rhea. I'm at fault for leaving Annabelle there, but I couldn't delay my leave as Suzanne's son was in critical condition. Don't worry, I've already gotten a new heart donor for Annabelle. We'll arrange for her surgery in two days…"

Two days?

Did Gabriel even remember how he'd abandoned Annabelle on the operating table with her chest cut wide open, leaving her to bleed out?

I began saying, "Gabriel, Annabelle is already—"

"Gabe! Robby says he's feeling unwell again. Hurry up and check on him!" Another voice sounded over the phone.

"Whatever it is that we need to talk about, let's wait till I'm home first. Bye now," Gabriel said.

"Gabriel Turner!" I yelled.

But the call had already ended, leaving only a dial tone in my ears.

As I gazed at Annabelle's pale little face, a sense of weakness overcame me, and I crumpled to the floor. Though the morgue's temperature was in the negative, cold sweat never stopped running down my back.

The chill they brought seeped right into my heart.

Annabelle's last words seemed to echo in my ear.

"Mommy, Daddy said Ms. Byron's son was in a worse condition than I am, so Daddy needed to go and save him. I can definitely be strong and hold on until Daddy's back…

"Please don't be angry at him, Mommy…"

It was Annabelle's beloved 'Daddy' who'd abandoned her right when she was in the most critical state.

Gabriel was the most skilled and powerful cardiologist in his field. He was able to accurately diagnose a patient based on a single report of theirs.

Hence, I refused to believe that he would miss Suzanne's son's misdiagnosis. He'd just been trying to show off in front of the woman he loved.

In the past, I would've chosen to ignore something like this, yet Gabriel's actions had led to Annabelle's death this time.

I groggily took out my phone and gave my father, Anthony Vaughn, a call.

His voice was filled with heartbreak as he heard my sobs. "I'll be returning to the country in three days, Rhea. Don't worry, I'll make sure those scoundrels pay for what they did."

After hanging up the call, I clutched Annabelle's body tightly in my arms and cried my heart out.

…

Annabelle was never one for fanfare, so I only invited close friends and family for her funeral.