For three agonizing years, my mother struggled with kidney failure. Finally, after all the waiting and the constant dialysis, she was next in line for a transplant. Hope seemed so close. But then, my husband, Zachary Levi, an esteemed nephrology professor, did the unforgivable. He surreptitiously gave his lover's mother the kidney that was intended for my mother.

He said almost dismissively, "Ella's mother couldn't wait any longer. Your mother's been on dialysis for so long, she's not going to die anytime soon."

Later, my mother passed away. I called Zachary one final time.

Yet, it was a woman who answered.

"Margaret, right? Zachary's in the shower. Is there something you need?"

I stared at my mother's smile on the gravestone, and an overwhelming emptiness spread through me.

"It's nothing. Just wanted to talk about the divorce."

He Secretly Donated the Kidney to Someone Else!

Not long after the call was hung up, Zachary sent me a message. 'There's a surgery. I'm staying at the hospital tonight.' Short and to the point, it indicated he wouldn't be coming home.

I couldn't help but recall the smug confidence in Ella's voice when she answered his phone. Judging by Zachary's response, it was clear she hadn't told him what I said.

I let out a bitter laugh, picked up the last of my things from his house, and walked out the door. Locking it behind me, I didn't even bother with a final glance.

We had been married for five years, and in all that time, whenever Zachary had to work late at the hospital, he would always make sure to let me know in detail. He once told me that women were sensitive and that as long as a man took care of the little things, it would give a woman a sense of security. Sending a text or making a quick call wasn't that hard.

This time was no different, as he used surgery as his excuse.

Once, I had loved him for his brilliance and thoughtfulness. But now, it all seemed like a cruel joke.

…

I went back to my mother's house. The familiar scent of her still lingered in the air.

I collapsed onto the bed she used to sleep in, my strength completely drained. I wept silently.

Just a few days ago, we had been holding each other, crying tears of joy. The long wait for a kidney transplant had finally come to an end! The news had given her renewed hope, a rare spark of life after years of battling this disease.

Three years of dialysis had stripped her body bare, leaving her gaunt and frail. Despite all that, she still gave me the gentlest smile.

"You've worked so hard for so long, sweetheart," she said softly.

I smiled back, resting my head in her lap while enjoying the comforting warmth only a mother could give.

Three years wasn't long, but it wasn't short either. For my mother, dialysis had extended her life, but it also took away so much of her dignity and joy. She had always been such a graceful, elegant woman, yet she had to endure this—a shunt in her body, placing all her hopes for survival on a machine.

She was the one who had suffered the most.

I had lost count of the times I found her late at night, staring at my father's photo and quietly weeping. I knew she wanted to join him. But Zachary had promised that once she got the transplant, everything would be fine.

He was the leading nephrology expert at Hathlon Hospital, after all. With him on our side, I allowed myself to hold the greatest hope.

So, we waited through the dialysis sessions and finally received good news.

Yet, just half an hour before the surgery, Zachary secretly gave the kidney meant for my mother to Ella's mother instead!

My mother didn't survive the surgery. Due to complications from heart failure, she never made it out of the operating room.

I Cannot Trust You Anymore

Clutching my mother's death certificate in my trembling hands, I felt like an empty shell. My eyes were dry, unable to shed even a single tear. I was too numb to cry.

I called Zachary over and over again, but he never picked up.

When my mother's condition worsened, I begged him to pull some strings, to move her up the transplant list faster. He knew how desperate I was, but he still refused.

"If I did that," he said, "what about the patient who's next in line? That person has been waiting just as long. It wouldn't be fair."

Zachary grew up in a small border town and was the only child to graduate from a prestigious university. He had no family connections or privileges, and he became a well-known professor entirely by his own efforts and talent.

He despised injustice, both at the hospital and the university.

That was why it was so hard to believe that the man who claimed to uphold fairness had stolen my mother's kidney and given it to someone else!

I rushed to the door of Ella's mother's operating room and saw Zachary come out with my own eyes.

He told Ella that the operation had been a success, and she threw herself into his arms.

Zachary raised his hand, hesitated, then let it fall, unsure whether to push her away or not. When he looked up, he saw me standing there.

He quickly pulled her out of his embrace, no doubt worried about what the other hospital staff would say if they saw.

I bit down on my lip, rage boiling inside me as I walked up to him. "Did you just perform a kidney transplant?" I demanded.

His expression faltered. "Yes, I just finished. Why are you here?"

"How many transplants did you do today?"

"Just this one. What's wrong?" he said, confusion flickering across his face. Then, something seemed to click, and a look of understanding settled in. "I know you're worried about your mother, but don't be. She'll get her transplant soon."

I couldn't hold back any longer and slapped his face hard.

Before he could react, Ella stepped in front of him, shoving me aside. "How dare you hit him?" she shouted.

Zachary still looked dazed as to why I had slapped him. Many people were watching us.

He frowned and asked in a cold and low voice, "What the heck are you doing?"

My eyes were red as I let out a bitter laugh. "How could you give my mother's kidney to someone else? She waited three years for it!"

Panic flashed in his eyes. My voice was quite clear for others to hear, and he was afraid of that. "Let's talk about this in my office," he suggested.

He reached for my arm, but I pulled away sharply. "No, we'll talk right here. Let's hear how you explain this!"

Zachary lowered his voice. "Ella's mother was in critical condition. Your mother has been doing fine on dialysis. She can wait a little longer."

I stared at him, my husband, who suddenly seemed like a stranger to me. I felt that his principles, the ones he always prided himself on, were nothing but bullshit.

"This is theft!" I said, my voice cold and steady.

"Margaret!" He interrupted me sharply. "Watch what you say."

Before I could respond, Ella spoke up. "Margaret, please, don't be mad at Zachary. It's my fault. I was so scared for my mother that I begged him for help. I'm sorry…"

She looked apologetic, and tears filled her eyes instantly. She bowed to me repeatedly.

'Just because you didn't want her mother to die, so you decided my mother's life didn't matter?' I thought, my heart filling with a grief too vast to bear. I couldn't understand or forgive her!

Dialysis had been excruciating for my mother. She had waited three years before she got a new kidney. But just when it was finally her turn, it was stolen from her. I couldn't accept it.

"Then, give my mother her kidney back," I said, my voice trembling with fury.

"That's enough!" Zachary's voice boomed just as a nurse wheeled Ella's mother out of the operating room.

Zachary turned to Ella and softly told her to take her mother back to the ward, and he would handle the situation here.

Once she was gone, he grabbed my shoulders and squeezed them tight. "Margaret, stop this. Ella's mother didn't have time. Your mother is doing fine on dialysis. She won't die anytime soon—"

I glared at him. He realized he had said something wrong, so he quickly backtracked. "I mean, I'll ensure your mother receives proper treatment. Trust me."

His Worthless Vows

Under the weight of his betrayal, I felt my heart grow cold, wrapped in an icy numbness. The urge to rip apart Zachary's mask of righteousness consumed me.

"Give her proper treatment? How will you treat her? Do you even realize that because of you, she's already—"

Before I could finish, a voice rang out. "Zachary! Come quickly. Something's wrong with my mom!"

It was Ella calling desperately for him. Zachary's face immediately tightened with concern. He didn't even listen to the rest of my sentence before rushing off to her mother's ward.

I couldn't stop a bitter smile from tugging at my lips as tears spilled down my cheeks. In my mind, I could see Zachary's self-righteous expression, the one he always wore when lecturing me about "fairness." And in that moment, I realized I never truly knew him.

As the medical staff called me again and again to sign the paperwork for my mother's remains, I fought to hold myself together. Somehow, I managed to gather the strength to handle her affair and prepare to have her buried beside my father.

I chose a photo of them from their younger days, both smiling so brightly. Tears streamed down my face as I looked at it. My mother had once told me that if she passed, she wanted this photo to be her memorial portrait. "That was the happiest time of my life," she had said.

My mother came from an intellectual family, but she fell in love with my father at first sight. It was a love that defied tradition, and her family had never approved of her marrying a man who had nothing. But my mother stood firm, even taking my father's surname as her own.

I traced my fingers over the photo and burst into tears. My father died young, and my mother, once a lady from a wealthy family, had to shoulder the burdens of our household alone. Although she suffered hardships in life, she felt happy because of the love shared between her and my father.

When Zachary and I got married, she repeatedly emphasized that she didn't need us to live in wealth or luxury but to just love each other, support each other, and live a peaceful life.

Zachary had sworn to her that he would treat me as my father had treated her, with unwavering love for a lifetime. But those vows felt so hollow now, shattered by the harsh reality I had witnessed.

The night my mother died, Zachary had messaged me, saying he had surgery and would be staying at the hospital. Not long after, Ella posted on Facebook with the caption, "As long as you're here, I have all the confidence in the world."

The photo she attached was of a man's back, carefully selecting flowers for her. That back looked so familiar, and it belonged to none other than Zachary, the man who was staying in the hospital overnight for surgery.

I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

From that day forward, I stopped questioning his whereabouts. He became busier as time went on and would constantly update me when he was staying overnight at the hospital. Occasionally, he would even ask about my mother's dialysis. I simply found it laughable.

If he had truly cared, how could he not know that my mother passed away some time ago?

One by one, I packed up my things, removing any trace of myself from our home. The love I once had for Zachary faded, little by little, until there was nothing left.

I didn't know how long I slept on my mother's bed, but when I woke, I saw I had several missed calls from Zachary.

When I didn't pick up, he sent a message. 'Where are you? What's the meaning of this?' Attached was a photo of the divorce papers I had left on the table.

'So, he has finally come home,' I thought.

While I was debating whether to respond, my phone rang again. His voice was laced with impatience when I answered. "What are you making a fuss about again?!"

He didn't even wait for a response before continuing, "Stop being so unreasonable, will you? I'm exhausted. Ella told me you want a divorce, and she's been feeling guilty, thinking it's because of her. Why don't you take some time to explain things to her?"

I asked, "Explain what?"

He sighed, annoyed. "Stop this, okay? I know you're worried about your mother, so I'm letting this slide."

It hit me then that Ella must have told him about the phone call, but he hadn't cared enough to dig deeper. He couldn't even imagine I was serious about the divorce.

He thought it was just another one of my emotional outbursts.

"Zachary, sign the divorce papers as soon as possible. I've already arranged for a lawyer to contact you. If you refuse, I'll take it to court."

"Margaret!" he shouted, his voice full of frustration. "Are you done yet? You're threatening me with divorce over this? It's not even a big deal!"

'Not a big deal.'

His tone felt so casual. I thought of my mother's hopeful gaze on that fateful day and how it had turned to despair. That kind of powerlessness and helpless disappointment tore at me daily, piece by piece.

My husband took the kidney meant for my mother and gave it to another woman's mother. As a daughter, I felt guilty toward the woman who had given everything to me.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I brushed them away. "Just sign the papers. There's no need to make this messier than it already is."

"Margaret, when will you stop being so selfish? I'm responsible for countless patients every day, and I have to come home and deal with this nonsense from you? I'm exhausted.

"If you want a divorce, fine. Let's do it. But I'm telling you right now, your mother won't agree to this. I've been the one treating her, and once we're divorced, I won't be helping either of you anymore!" he vented before hanging up.

For some unknown reason, I felt at ease when I saw him like this.

Actually, his relationship with Ella was suspicious, and it wasn't the first time I had noticed.