sense of calm and purpose. Tonight, it felt like a spotlight in a theater of humiliation. There on the gurney, his designer

op top was holding his hand, her voice a high-pitched whine. "

possibly heavy. Priapism. A prolonged, painful erection. A side effect

at me, her eyes wide and

. I had a reservation at our favorite restaurant, a bottle of vintage champagne chilling at home, a new silk dress waiting. And he w

anaged to say, the words ta

? But he told me he was divorced! He

Humiliation, hot and sharp, washed over me. Everyone was watching. Nurses I'd trained, residents who looked up to me, colleagues who respec

feet away, his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes were full of concern. He held a tablet, pretending to review a case.

this very personal disaster. But then I looked back at Liam, who was now avoiding my gaze, his char

ndle it. He's my patient now." I turned my full attention to Liam, my professiona

dress. "Evelyn, honey, let's n

e waiting room. Or you can leave. It makes no difference to me." I stripped off my wedding ring, the simple platinum band we'd chosen together a decad

y, of a partnership built on mutual respect. He was the artist, the adventurer, and I was the anchor, the steady hand. He traveled the world ca

hallway-laughing in Paris, hiking in a national park, celebrating his gallery opening-they w

uring. "I'll take care of it, Ev. I'll get a vasectomy. We don't need kids to be a family. I only need you." He had even shown me the paperwork, the doctor's appointment. Another lie. A c

d through my spiraling thoughts.

k a deep, shuddering breath, pushing the image of Liam and his mis

off, the pain would come. But for now, there was only the cold, hard certainty of what I had to do. After I saved my patient's