She Wouldn't Do "It"

In the early hours of the morning, Lindsey called.

"Honey, I still haven't resolved the project issues. I probably won't make it home tonight. Don't wait for me. Get a good rest."

Before I could respond, she hung up.

The alcohol had dulled my senses, and I drifted into sleep right there on the carpet.

In my dream, I returned to the day we first met.

It was the last day of orientation. Urged on by her roommates, Lindsey ran up to me, stammering as she blurted, "You look like my boyfriend."

Such a bold, straightforward line.

Because of it, my roommates dubbed me the "pioneer of romance."

After that, she kept finding excuses to meet me.

Though we weren't in the same department, she always managed to "bump into me" everywhere.

At the start of the semester, my name had already appeared on the campus confession page. Plenty of girls pursued me, and at first, I felt nothing for Lindsey.

But little by little, her warmth—like the sun itself—melted my indifference.

Together, we walked hand in hand from undergrad all the way to grad school.

After I completed my PhD, one evening she pulled out a pair of rings and asked if I would marry her. I dropped to one knee and produced the ring I had secretly prepared long ago.

She said yes without a moment's hesitation.

Throwing herself into my arms, eyes shimmering with tears, she whispered, "George, I'll love you forever. Let's never be apart, okay?"

And now, she was the one who pushed me away.

Her lies had become the sword that split us apart.

…

The next morning, a colleague's call woke me. The pillow beneath me was soaked with tears.

Lindsey hadn't returned all night.

I swore to myself this would be the last time I ever cried for her.

After a quick wash, I drove to the hospital.

Even though I had already decided to leave, I couldn't abandon my responsibilities. I still had patients to see, work to hand over, and duties that couldn't simply be left undone.

That's the cruelty of adult life—it doesn't care how broken you are inside. Work still demands to be done.

While waiting at a red light, I messaged my childhood friend, now a lawyer, to ask about divorce proceedings.

There was no hysteria, no screaming, no messy entanglements.

No sudden "fated girl" appearing out of nowhere to tell me she was my true soulmate.

I had loved Lindsey deeply, but without her, I could still live brilliantly.

In my story, I am the only protagonist.

Our marriage had simply reached the end.

After submitting my resignation to the hospital director, I threw myself into work without pause.

Patient after patient filled my schedule, leaving me dizzy with exhaustion. For a while, thoughts of Lindsey faded from my mind.

But what I never expected was that before I could even confront her, she would come crashing into my world on her own.

I was holding a report, about to explain post-op care to a patient's family, when I turned a corner and froze.

It was Lindsey. Her hand was hooked tightly around Ian's arm. The two of them hurried straight into one of the wards.

And the room they entered… was the very one I was heading to.