After My Marriage Shattered

The wedding ring spun around my finger for the third time when the consultation room door creaked open. A pale pink dress clung to her slender figure. The girl pressed a hand to her waist and walked straight to the examination chair, her movements tinged with deliberate fragility. My hand holding the cervical forceps stalled, the sharp smell of disinfectant swirling around my nose suddenly thickened, making it hard to breathe. "So, you're Mrs. Green?" The girl lifted her eyes; the glitter on her eyelashes shimmered with each blink, making me dizzy. I said nothing, picked up the medical record book at the corner of the table, and turned to a new page to start writing. "Why so quiet? Did I hit a nerve? Feeling guilty?" She let out a light laugh, her fingertip tracing her flat belly, the pride in her voice impossible to hide. "Charles said you've been a widow in life for five years, not even knowing how he likes it." The metallic clink of instruments echoed sharply in the silent consultation room, piercingly clear and grating. It was the fifth year I'd been married to Charles Green, and the ninety-ninth girl with some unforeseen problem he'd dragged me into dealing with. After five years, such humiliations had become routine — but every time I heard of them, a tight, prickling ache spread through my chest. I heard the doorknob turn and thought it was a nurse coming to help, until a sharply knuckled hand suddenly clamped down on my wrist. "Stop." Charles Green's voice was laced with raw anger, "I told you to keep her pregnancy safe, not to mess around." I looked up and met his cold eyes—devoid of any warmth, filled only with irritation towards me. In five years of marriage, his gaze had never once softened for me. "What?" He curled a bitter smile, disdain practically oozing from his voice. "Forgot how you became Mrs. Green? If you hadn't saved my grandfather back then, do you really think you'd have stepped into the Green family's house?" The disinfectant cotton ball slipped from my fingertips, fell to the floor, and rolled a few times. I bent down to pick it up, and just as my hand touched the cotton ball, I heard him say again, "You have no right to meddle in my affairs." I stood up, gently placing the instrument back on the tray, trying to keep my voice steady: "The test requires fasting; have her come back tomorrow." Charles frowned, his tone firm: "We're doing the test now." "This is medical procedure; it can't be changed on a whim." I pushed up my glasses on the bridge of my nose, deliberately avoiding his gaze. It's been five years. I've long since learned to hide all my emotions around him, never giving him a chance to hurt me. "Procedure? In the Green Family, my word is the procedure!" He snatched the medical record book from my hands and slammed it onto the table. "Daisy Scott, how dare you shamelessly disrespect me!" The atmosphere in the consultation room instantly dropped to freezing. The girl sat on the examination chair, watching us with cruel delight, a triumphant smile tugging at her lips. I took a deep breath, swallowing the ache deep inside, and picked up the instruments again. "Then let's start with a basic examination." During the examination, the girl would occasionally let out a few coquettish sounds, deliberately leaning closer to Charles Green, whose gaze never left her—tender, as if she were a rare treasure. That contrast felt like a thorn lodged deep in my back. After the exam, Charles helped the girl turn and walk away without even sparing me a glance, as if I were nothing more than an insignificant decoration in the consultation room.