On My Wedding Day, Husband Called From Three Years in the Future

I pushed him off, mumbled something about a shower, and locked myself in the bathroom.

I turned the water to cold and let it pour over my head. In the mirror, my face was paper-white.

The rational part of me knew. Future Ethan wasn't lying. Present Ethan had cheated, and it was real.

But eight years. How do you walk away from eight years?

I closed my eyes, and every good thing he'd ever done was right there.

The day I passed my Attending Physician boards, he'd rented out an entire restaurant and dropped to one knee right there to celebrate me.

He'd said, "Jo, your hands belong on a scalpel. I'll take care of the dishes for the rest of our lives."

He'd meant it. In eight years, I'd barely seen the inside of a kitchen.

A man who'd treated me like I hung the moon, in bed with my best friend? How?

That night, lying next to him, listening to him breathe evenly, I picked up my phone.

I texted future him.

[When was the first time? With her?]

His reply came back cold and detached.

[Tonight.]

[I told you I was meeting a client. I was in her room.]

[From tonight all the way to the day I called you. We never stopped.]

My stomach turned over.

I thought about the reception: Ethan raising a champagne glass, telling me he had to step out for clients.

I'd laughed and told him to go easy on the drinks. I'd fixed his tie.

Vivian had come over and held my hand, her eyes full of sympathy.

"Jo, Ethan's just doing this for your future. Don't be mad at him."

I'd hugged her. I'd actually hugged her. "Thank you, Viv. I'm so lucky to have you."

Looking back, the way they'd looked at each other across that room was the cruelest joke of all.

The next morning, I went to work like nothing had happened.

I'm the youngest Attending in our cardiothoracic department, and next week, I was supposed to lead a major surgery.

The patient's case was complicated, the kind nobody in the department wanted to touch.

If I pulled it off, I was up for early promotion to Associate Chief of Surgery.

Vivian had been my surgical nurse for years, and I'd trusted her with everything: every chart, every protocol. She had access to all of it.

I sat at my desk staring at the scheduling system, my head spinning.

My phone buzzed. Future Ethan.

[Vivian tampered with your surgical plan. She paid off the patient's family. Did you know?]

I stood up so fast my chair rolled back, and I stared at the screen.

I'm a doctor. Nobody gambles with my patients' lives.

I texted back: [That's impossible. She has no motive. And I went over the data myself.]

[Next week, your surgery is going to fail catastrophically. They'll say you made a procedural error. The patient is going to bleed out on the table.]

[The family is going to sue you immediately. Vivian is going to testify as a state's witness. She'll say you pushed an unapproved technique for the promotion.]

[That'll be the end of your career.]

[The money she used to bribe the family came from me. I didn't want you flying too high, higher than I could reach.]

I read the messages with my hands shaking.

I left my office. Vivian was on rounds, so I opened her locker.

Inside was the folder she carried everywhere.

I opened it, and the blood drained out of me.

Inside was my entire surgical plan, with every contingency.

On every page, someone had written in fake reference numbers in red ink.

Yesterday's version of me would have trusted those numbers. They were that good.

Tucked behind the folder was a printed wire transfer receipt. The recipient: the patient's son.

I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood.

I'd given up everything for medicine. I'd lost count of the nights I hadn't slept.

Ethan had said he'd always have my back. He'd said he'd support my career, no matter what.

Now he was about to destroy it, because he couldn't handle that I might outgrow him.

That evening, Vivian came into my office holding a coffee.

"Jo, you look terrible. Pre-op nerves?"

"Don't worry, I went over everything for you. We're solid."

Her smile was warm and harmless.

I looked into her eyes and forced down the urge to throw the coffee in her face.

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

After she left, I texted future Ethan.

[My career's destroyed. Have you ever regretted it?]

His reply came fast.

[Yes.]

[That was the first time I really saw how strong you were. After the state medical board pulled your license, you didn't cry. You just locked yourself in your apartment for three days.]

[When you came out, you took a job at a community clinic as a nursing aide.]

A pause. Then:

[That's when I started regretting it.]