Part 2When Promises Fail

The third time news came that Vanessa was "critically ill," I was in the kitchen, brewing a traditional herbal remedy. The clay pot simmered on the stove, the bitter medicinal scent mingling with notes of dried citrus peel—a smell that perfectly captured the taste of my relationship with Nick these days.

He burst in, a whirlwind in a white coat, the hem of it catching the edge of a bowl I’d just filled. The dark, murky liquid splattered across the cream-colored tiles, an ugly stain.

“Chloe, Vanessa’s crashing again. Her heart rate dropped to forty, the doctors said…” He grabbed my arm, his grip so tight I thought my bones might snap. “I have to go to the hospital. Just for a minute. If she sees me, maybe she’ll stabilize…”

I looked at the bloodshot veins in his eyes, at the single long, dark hair clinging to the collar of his coat—a hair that wasn't mine. And I laughed.

“Nick,” I said, pulling my arm free. I knelt, grabbing a rag to wipe the floor, my nails scraping against the grout. “Do you remember what day it is?”

He blinked, clearly having no idea.

“It’s the day of my follow-up appointment.” My voice was as flat and lifeless as a stagnant pond. “The doctor said my recovery isn’t going well. I have to go today, or I risk a serious infection.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes darted away. “I know, but Vanessa…”

“She’s important, and I’m not. Is that it?” I looked up, meeting his gaze, and enunciated every word. “In your eyes, am I just supposed to wait here forever? Wait for you to comfort your patient, wait for you to remember the fiancée you abandoned, wait for you to throw me a scrap of your attention?”

“No, it’s not like that!” he stammered, but his phone began to vibrate violently, the screen flashing with the words “ICU.”

He glanced at the phone, then back at me. Finally, he grabbed his car keys. “Chloe, I’m begging you. I promise, I’ll go to the hospital with you as soon as I get back. I’ll stay as long as you need…”

“Don’t bother.” I stood up and tossed the soiled rag into the trash. “Go, Nick.”

He froze, a look of surprise on his face. He probably hadn’t expected me to be so calm.

“But there’s something you should know,” I said, walking to the hall closet and zipping my jacket up to my nose. “At my last check-up, the doctor said that from now on… it might be difficult for me to get pregnant again.”

The car keys clattered to the floor.

“What did you say?” His voice trembled. He lunged forward, trying to hug me. “How? Was it the surgery…?”

“Yes,” I said, taking a step back, avoiding his touch. “Or maybe it was when I fainted at the wedding and hit my stomach. Who knows.” I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t cooperate. “But it doesn’t matter. You don’t care anyway, right?”

He stood there, his face as white as a sheet, his lips trembling, unable to form a single word. The phone continued its shrill, insistent ringing, a death knell for us.

I pulled on my shoes and opened the door. A blast of cold air made me shiver.

“Go,” I said, staring at the bleak fluorescent light in the hallway. “Don’t keep your patient waiting.”

He didn’t move, his eyes fixed on me as if trying to burn my image into his memory.

“Nick,” I said, giving him one last look, “the moment you chose her, you should have known. Once something is broken, it can never be put back together again.”

The door clicked shut behind me, cutting off whatever he was about to say, and sealing the end of the six years he had personally destroyed.

I walked downstairs. It had started to rain, a fine, cold mist that stung my face. I hadn’t gone far when I heard hurried footsteps behind me. He had followed me out, my medical file clutched in his hand. He must have grabbed it in his panic.

“Chloe! I’ll take you to the hospital! Right now!” He tried to grab my arm, the desperation in his eyes spilling over. “I’ll have a colleague watch Vanessa, I’m worried about you…”

“Don’t be.” I pulled the file from his grasp. “Dr. Morrison, you should go save your patient. After all, in your heart, her life is so much more important than mine.”

I turned and walked into the rain, and I didn’t look back.

The footsteps followed for a few paces, then stopped. I knew his phone must have been ringing again.

The rain blurred my vision, and with it, the path that had begun in a sunlit library, a path I once believed would last a lifetime.

I later heard that he did, in fact, go back to the hospital that day. Vanessa hadn't been crashing. She had pulled out her own IV line, just to get him there.

And while he was there, I was at my own appointment. The anesthetic didn't take full effect. I felt everything. I bit down on the bedsheet so hard I thought my teeth would break, tears and cold sweat soaking the pillow.

The nurses said I never made a sound. They didn’t know that compared to the pain in my heart, the physical agony was a dull ache. My heart had gone numb from the moment he had run to her, again and again and again.