There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line.
The nurse sounded hesitant. "Are you Mrs. Carter? Your match was successful. The system shows that your husband, Mr. Carter, collected the official report. Didn't you receive it?"
The match was successful.
Those words were so light, yet they pierced straight through my heart like a blade.
My stomach churned with pain and nausea.
I hung up, rushed into the bathroom, and began vomiting.
For five years, I had undergone dialysis and endured more than a thousand needle sticks.
That pain had never left me.
Day and night, I had waited for a kidney to become available.
And now, every one of those experiences felt like a cruel joke.
A chill spread through my entire body.
I clung to the toilet, laughing and crying at the same time, completely losing control.
After I calmed down a little, I took a shower, then lay in bed scrolling through the woman's account.
Her earliest post read: New job. The first time I saw him, my legs went weak. How could a man be so hot? And that birthmark on his wrist—so sexy.
The photo attached was a candid shot of a man's profile.
The man in the picture was Ethan.
I kept scrolling.
Three months earlier, she had posted: His wife went out for dialysis today, so I went into his house and sat there for a while. That frumpy old hen is so pathetic. Her bedside is covered in medicine bottles, the fridge is full of dialysis fluid, and the entire house reeks of disinfectant. I have no idea how he stands coming home every day and seeing a woman like that.
That day, I did go to the hospital.
Ethan said there was an urgent matter at work. He dropped me off at the hospital entrance and left.
So that was when he brought her into our home.
When the screen went dark, it reflected my face, streaked with tears.
Ethan didn't come home until late that night.
"Why are you still awake? Was dialysis exhausting today?"
The moment his hand touched me, I pulled away.
He frowned, looking slightly impatient.
"What are you upset about now? I've had a long day. I don't have the energy to comfort you. Whatever it is, we'll talk tomorrow. Go to sleep."
After he fell asleep, I picked up the phone from his nightstand.
Without thinking, I entered my birthday.
Incorrect password.
It felt like a hard slap across the face.
I didn't give up. I searched through that woman's posts until I found her birthday.
Then I entered it.
The phone unlocked.
On w******p, the pinned contact showed Sweetheart.
When I scrolled up, the chat was filled with explicit flirting.
Three days earlier.
Vivian: Baby, can't you come over today? Your frumpy old wife of yours is so annoying."
Ethan: Be good. Wait a few more days. She can't be left alone right now."
This morning.
Vivian: Baby, can you come keep me company today? I'll be your nurse today. You know what I mean."
I forced myself to read every message they had ever sent each other.
I clenched my teeth, but I still couldn't stop myself from crying.
Beside me, Ethan was asleep. Almost instinctively, he pulled me into his arms and gently rubbed my back.
"What's wrong, honey? Are you upset about the kidney again? Don't be sad. I'm here."
His embrace was still warm, and the birthmark on his wrist was clear.
My mind went back to the car accident 8 years earlier.
I had just finished a night shift when an out-of-control van mounted the sidewalk.
Ethan threw himself at me from behind and shoved me aside with all his strength. His own leg was dragged beneath the vehicle, and his lower leg was crushed.
Blood poured from his pant leg. His face had gone pale from the pain, but he still forced a smile for me.
"Nina, it's okay. I'm fine. If anything happened to you, my life would be over."
After we were rushed to the hospital, he remained unconscious for three days and nights.
When he finally woke up, the first thing he asked was, "Where's Nina? Is she okay?"
He had loved me so deeply then.
But why had everything changed?
I lay stiffly in his arms and asked Ethan in a hoarse voice,
"Who is Vivian Hayes?"
Aksara