He Begged Me to Let Him Go, Now He’s Begging to Come Back Chapter 01
The first time I saw my ex-husband Greg Thornton in five years was the day his wife caused a scene in the emergency room.
The woman the security guards were holding back was shrieking at the top of her lungs, clutching his coat and calling him “honey.”
I recognized her.
Back then, she called me Emily. She said her mother was in the hospital and she had no money, so I lent her the eleven thousand dollars I had saved over two years.
She never paid it back. Instead, she found another way to show her gratitude: she slept with my husband.
The day I found out, I didn’t say a word. I just sat in the stairwell and cried until morning.
Greg was afraid I would make a scene. So, right in front of me, he grabbed a razor blade and slashed his own wrist, forcing me to sign the divorce papers.
He said he was in too much pain and begged me to let him go.
As if he were the one who had been betrayed.
I signed, walked away with nothing, and worked my way up from resident to attending surgeon entirely on my own.
Now he was sitting in the ER hallway, staring at the name on my white coat for a long time.
I opened the chart and went over the surgical risks the way I did with every patient.
After he signed, he didn’t leave. He just stood there holding the pen, his expression unreadable. His voice came out rough. “I remember you used to be terrified of blood.”
I closed the folder. Polite. Professional.
“I’ve seen a lot of it since then. The fear went away.”
***
“Emily, please, I’m begging you to save my son!”
Linda Hayes somehow broke free from the two security guards. She sank to the floor in front of me, clutching at my coat, her knees hitting the tile with a dull thud.
Greg frowned and bent down to pull her up by the arm.
“Linda, get up. Dr. Carter is still reviewing the chart.”
His voice was calm, soothing. The picture of a steady, responsible husband.
Linda clung to the hem of his suit jacket, her face twisted with tears.
“Honey, please beg her for me! She used to care about me so much. I know she’ll save Henry, won’t she?”
I flipped through the CT images, my eyes stopping at the patient’s age. Four and a half years old.
Greg and I had been divorced for exactly five years and two months.
The timing was so precise it felt like the universe was keeping score for them.
“The patient has a severe splenic rupture with extensive internal bleeding. He needs an immediate exploratory laparotomy.”
I placed the scans on the lightbox, my voice steady.
“Mr. Thornton already signed the consent form. Please proceed to the cashier to make the payment and arrange for pre-op blood work.”
Linda’s head snapped up. There was disbelief in her eyes, mixed with something else. She probably thought I would humiliate her or refuse to operate.
Greg looked surprised too. He let go of Linda and walked over to me.
“Emily, thank you.” He held my gaze with that self-righteous tenderness he had always been so good at.
“I know you’re still angry. But the child is innocent. Name your price. Whatever it takes for you to do the surgery.”
I looked up at him.
He was wearing a tailored suit and a fifty-thousand-dollar watch on his wrist. The same wrist he had sliced open to manipulate me was now hidden behind polished steel and leather.
“Mr. Thornton.” I picked up my pen and started writing orders on the chart.
“I’m the ER surgeon on call tonight. You came to my emergency department and asked for me. Operating on your son is my job.”
“There are no special conditions and no personal grudge. Just medicine.”
I handed him the form. “Please go make the payment. We’re running out of time.”
Greg didn’t take it. Instead, he pulled a thermos from his pocket, unscrewed the lid, and set it in front of me.
“You’ve been working all night. Your stomach must be bothering you.” His voice softened.
“I went across the street and got you honey lemon water. You used to love that when you stayed up late.”
I looked at the steaming cup, the pale liquid with a thin slice of lemon floating on top.
A dull ache spread through my stomach.
I didn’t have ulcers.
Linda did.
Back when Linda lived with us, she used to get stomach pain from staying up late watching TV. And Greg would get up in the middle of the night to make her honey lemon water.
He had made it so often that his muscle memory had confused her preferences with mine.
“I don’t like anything sour.” I pushed the thermos back across the desk, the bottom scraping softly. “Mr. Thornton, please step aside. I need to change into my scrubs.”
Greg’s hand froze midair.
But Linda had already started screaming.
“Emily! Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning! You want revenge, don’t you? Let me tell you something. If anything happens to my son, I will make you pay!”
Patients and nurses turned to stare.
I stood up and smoothed the front of my white coat.
“Ms. Hayes, if you continue to cause a disturbance, I will have security escort you out.”
“And for the record, your son’s blood pressure is dropping. Every minute you waste yelling at me, his chance of surviving gets smaller.”
Linda went pale. Her lips trembled, but no sound came out.
Greg grabbed her arm and lowered his voice. “That’s enough, Linda. Stop it.”
He turned to me, and now there was something else in his eyes. Disappointment.
“Emily, she’s just worried about her son. She’s not thinking straight.”
“You’re an attending now. Can’t you be a little more understanding? Do you really need to make this into a thing?”
He managed to say the most biased things in the gentlest tone.
Somehow, he had turned me into the bully and him and Linda into the victims.
I didn’t look at him. I walked toward the scrub sink.
“The payment slip is on the desk. I’ll see you in the OR in ten minutes.”
Cold water ran over my hands. I looked up at my reflection in the mirror.
A thin smile crossed my lips.
The water dripped from my chin into the steel basin. Clean, final.