Part 3Code Blue: The Surgeon's Scalpel

I didn't go back to the hospital.

By the time I drove up to my neighborhood gate, it was pitch black. The guard saw my car, raised the barrier as usual, and didn't give me a second glance.

The lights were on inside the house.

I changed my shoes in the entryway. The living room was quiet; the TV was off. On the dining table sat two plates of food that had already gone cold. Arthur was sitting on the sofa holding a tablet, looking like he was reviewing documents.

He heard me come in, glanced up, and his tone was flat. "You're back."

I set my keys in the tray by the door, didn't reply, and walked over to the dining table to pour a glass of water.

"You don't need to go back to the hospital anymore," he said, closing the tablet and standing up. "I've already made it clear to Administration. I told them to stop bothering you."

"Made what clear?" I asked.

"That you're not in the right emotional state, and you need to take a break." He walked over, picking up the cold plates to take them into the kitchen. "You acting like this will only make things more difficult."

I followed him into the kitchen and watched him dump the food into the trash.

"Did you sign off on Liam Carter's authorization form?"

His hands paused for a second, but he didn't turn around immediately.

"He's just a proxy," he said. "The final approval still comes to me."

"He's an intern," I stated.

"So what?" He turned around, his tone edging into impatience. "Stop bringing up titles all the time. Young doctors need to be trained; someone has to be ready to step up. What's the point of fixating on a name?"

I leaned against the doorframe, watching him.

"That transplant patient... I was the one responsible for her."

"I know," he frowned. "But the hospital doesn't revolve entirely around you. How long have you been back in the country? Can you even keep up with the changes in the surgical department over the past few years?"

"You think I can't keep up?"

He didn't answer directly, merely sighing. "Chloe, you're too stubborn. The way things are done overseas... it doesn't work everywhere."

I offered a half-smile. "So what works here? Putting an intern on the front lines?"

His face finally darkened completely.

"Do you have to speak like that?" He tied a knot in the trash bag. "You just can't accept change. Do you think you're still the only option available?"

My smile vanished.

"You've already made up your mind," I said.

He stared at me, as if weighing the impact of my words.

The living room fell silent, save for the low hum of the refrigerator compressor.

After a few seconds, his tone softened slightly. "I won't deny it. Right now, I have to think about the entire hospital. The Chief of Surgery position can't remain vacant, and someone has to be able to hold the fort. You wanting to drag everything back to how it was the second you returned... it's just not realistic."

"So you chose him," I said.

He didn't deny it.

"Liam is at least obedient, and he's willing to do the work," he said. "He knows which side to stand on."

The implication hung heavy in the air, clearer than any direct accusation.

I nodded. "Understood."

He seemed surprised I agreed so quickly, taken aback for a moment. "What do you understand?"

"You don't want successful surgeries," I said. "You want positions filled by people who fall in line with your agenda."

His temple twitched, and his voice dropped. "Don't make this sound so malicious."

"Then be honest with me." I met his gaze squarely. "If someone else had been suspended today, would you have been this decisive?"

He avoided my eyes and turned to pour himself a glass of water.

"You're being too sensitive," he said. "We're married. Stop trying to turn this into an adversarial situation."

"But you've already taken a side."

He set the glass down on the counter with a soft clink.

He looked up at me, and for the first time, his eyes showed clear annoyance. "Chloe, this attitude of yours isn't doing anyone any favors."

"I'm not sure if it benefits you," I said. "But it definitely doesn't benefit me."

He was silent for a moment before speaking more directly. "You currently have zero privileges and no say in this matter. Continuing to make a fuss will only make it harder to wrap this up."

"Is that a warning?"

"It's a fact."

I didn't continue the conversation, turning instead toward the study.

The study door was ajar, the room exactly as I had left it. A stack of medical journals sat on the desk; my suitcase, still half-unpacked from my return trip, rested in the corner.

I pulled the suitcase out and started throwing clothes inside.

He followed me in, standing at the doorway. "What are you doing?"

"I'm moving out for a while," I said.

"Is that really necessary?" His voice rose slightly. "Your home is right here."

"Here, my voice means nothing." I zipped up a compartment. "A change of scenery will give me some peace and quiet."

He stared at me like he was looking at a complete stranger.

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me now?" he asked.

"No." I stood the suitcase upright. "I just don't want to be involved in your decisions anymore."

He let out a cold laugh. "Do you think taking a step back absolves you of everything?"

"At least I won't be used as an excuse anymore," I said.

His expression turned ice cold. "Chloe, don't forget—right now, you have nothing."

I paused and looked at him.

"I have my expertise," I stated.

The word seemed to hit a nerve, his tone suddenly sharp. "Expertise? Who cares only about that nowadays? You're too naive."

I didn't argue back.

Some things only need to be said once.

I pushed the suitcase to the door and casually grabbed a stack of documents from the study. They were case analyses I'd compiled over the past few years, intending to slowly review them after returning to the States.

He stood in the middle of the living room, watching me, as if waiting for me to say something more.

I changed into my shoes and grabbed my coat.

"You're going to regret this," he suddenly said.

I paused for a second but didn't turn around.

"You always think you're in control of everything," I said. "But you can't even manage patient triage correctly."

As the door clicked shut, his voice was sealed inside.