“What are you doing here?” Paul’s accusatory tone made his wife realize who I was.
“Wait, is this…?” she began, her eyes narrowing.
“Did you come here to harass us?” His words stung, and I struggled to explain that I had been working at the clinic long before I knew they lived nearby.
Disregarding my explanation, Paul continued his tirade, accusing me of stalking them. Despite being clearly in the wrong, his words drew judgmental stares from others in the waiting room. Fearing for their safety, his wife feigned distress, clutching her stomach and insinuating that I posed a threat to her and the baby. The attending physician intervened, urging me to leave the examination room to diffuse the tension. While I understood, the encounter left me feeling shaken and unfairly judged.
With the details of my divorce now public knowledge, I became acutely aware of the whispers and glances. Paul’s wife continued to frequent the clinic, openly criticizing me at every visit. As a patient with a delicate pregnancy, she held all the power. I felt torn between avoiding her and defending myself, leaving everyone around me at a loss. Remaining in this environment until her delivery, which was still over six months away, seemed unbearable. Despite it being a good workplace, I submitted my resignation. The director’s expression hinted at relief.
Exhausted by everything, I couldn’t bring myself to search for another hospital job. I returned to my parents’ home. They welcomed me without judgment, their quiet support a balm on my wounded spirit. For a while, I struggled to find purpose, feeling guilty for just staying at home. Eventually, I decided to take a part-time job at a nearby supermarket. It was my first time working outside of a hospital, and it felt surprisingly refreshing. While I loved being a nurse, the weight of responsibility in a place where lives were at stake was immense. This new environment was beneficial for my mental well-being.
Around three years later, while still living with my parents, I received an offer to become a full-time employee at the supermarket. They recognized my hard work, and I was genuinely happy to accept. Over the years, I was approached with matchmaking proposals, but at forty-five, I had no intention of remarrying. I politely declined each one, until the store manager insisted on one particular match.
“He’s also divorced,” the manager said, “a good man, Jennifer. Just meet him once.”
Despite my initial refusal, the offer lingered. I agreed to the meeting. Considering our mutual maturity, we decided to meet directly. Upon arriving at the designated restaurant, my matchmaking partner was already there. As I entered, he suddenly stood up, causing his chair to topple over with a loud clatter. His face flushed bright red, and despite his embarrassment, I couldn’t help but laugh. It felt like a scene straight out of a novel.
“I’m Edward. Thank you for coming today,” he said, regaining his composure.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Jennifer.”
Perhaps due to the initial mishap, we quickly found ourselves at ease. I discovered that Edward had visited our supermarket during a business trip and had been captivated by me at first sight. He had convinced the department manager, who turned out to be his senior from university, to arrange our meeting.
“I’d like to pursue a serious relationship, if possible,” Edward expressed, his gaze direct and sincere.
I had come prepared to decline, but unexpectedly, I found myself wanting to see him again. After six months of dating, we decided to get married. My parents adored Edward’s kind and steady personality, and they were genuinely happy for us. Our life together, filled with Edward’s care and consideration, was truly blissful.
Since we were both older, we hadn’t planned to have children. However, when I turned forty-eight, my health took an unexpected turn. I wasn’t feeling unwell. I was pregnant. I never imagined I’d be pregnant at this age, and I certainly didn’t expect my discomfort to be morning sickness. I suspected Edward felt the same way when I shared the news.
“It looks like I’m pregnant,” I said, my voice trembling slightly.
Edward responded naturally, with a warm smile. “That’s wonderful.” Then, a playful glint in his eye, he asked, “So, who’s pregnant? Do I know the person?”
“Yeah, I think you know her very well,” I said, playing along. “She’s right in front of you.” I pointed to myself.
Edward looked bewildered, staring at my belly. “Huh?”
“I’m the one who’s pregnant,” I clarified.
He remained silent for a moment, processing. Then, with wide eyes, he asked, “Wait… so you mean we’ll be parents?”
“Yes, it seems that way,” I confirmed.
“Really?” he exclaimed. “Wow!” He hugged me tightly, lifting me off the ground. “Unbelievable! It’s a miracle!”
“Is it okay if I go through with it?” I whispered against his chest. While I had never considered not having the baby, my age was a factor. The uncertainty of parenting at this stage of life worried me.
“What are you saying? Of course, it’s natural,” Edward’s immediate, unwavering support made my heart soar. We discussed it thoroughly, our desire to have this baby solidifying with every conversation.
And so, it was decided that I would give birth at a well-equipped, large hospital. The obstetrician was a caring and competent doctor, which was reassuring. On one of my prenatal checkup days, not only the obstetrician but also an internal medicine doctor came in for extra precaution. Edward was supposed to be there, but urgent work had called him away. So, I entered the examination room alone.
To my surprise, there stood my ex-husband, Paul. Honestly, encountering him again, in such a place, felt like a cruel twist of fate.
“Ha! Seriously? You’re a forty-eight-year-old pregnant woman? It’s impossible to give birth at your age,” he burst out laughing, a harsh, ugly sound that filled the sterile room. The obstetrician and the nurse looked at him, their expressions puzzled.
“You have no right to say such things,” I retorted, my voice shaking with a mixture of anger and anxiety.
“I’m just concerned,” he sneered. “A grandma getting pregnant. It’s gross.”
“Is that how you treat patients?” I shot back. “Even without the anxiety that pregnant women already face, spewing such hurtful words is unbelievable. And you call yourself a doctor?”
“What are you acting all high and mighty for? Besides, this hospital mostly caters to celebrities. Do you even realize that? It’d be better for you to leave before you embarrass yourself.”
“I’ll leave without being told. Giving birth in a hospital where doctors like you work? No way.”
“Yeah, just go,” Paul sneered, pointing toward the door. “This lady is the wife of the Taylor Group’s significant donor. The son’s wife, to be precise.”
“Huh?” I was confused.
“You might not know her since you’re new here,” he continued, but before he could say more, the internal medicine doctor, a distinguished woman named Mrs. Taylor, intervened.
“This can’t be true,” she said, looking from Paul to me, “but she’s my… we’re complete strangers. Nevertheless, your recent remarks were way out of line. It’s hard to believe a doctor would say such things.”
Just as Paul turned pale, Edward walked in. “Sorry for being late. My wife was…” he began, then stopped, sensing the tension. He took in my angry expression, Paul’s pale face, and the overall atmosphere. “What’s wrong?”
“I was told by this Dr. Paul that it’s disgusting to give birth at forty-eight,” I explained, seeing Edward’s concern instantly turn to fury.
“You’re Paul, right?” Edward’s voice was stern, dangerously calm. “You insulted my wife.”
Paul stammered, denying it, but Edward pressed on. “How can you insult a patient like that? What kind of hospital is this? I can’t trust this place with my precious wife and unborn child.”
Just then, the nurse who had left earlier returned with the hospital director. “Mr. Taylor, I heard there was some rudeness…”
“Director,” Edward interrupted, his frustration evident. “I thought this was a reliable hospital because my father recommended it, but I didn’t know you employed a doctor like this. It seems I chose the wrong hospital.”
“I’m very sorry. No, that’s not true. This man is not our doctor,” the director clarified, surprising us all. “I just fired him.”
“Huh?” Paul looked stunned.
“I just fired him,” the director reiterated. “I didn’t know he was such a person. I let him in because a friend asked me to. We don’t need a doctor who spits out such insults. He will never appear in front of Mr. and Mrs. Taylor again.”
“Hey, Director, what are you saying?” Paul protested, but the director silenced him.
“Shut up and be quiet! You get out of here right now!” The obstetrician who was there dragged Paul out into the hallway.
The director apologized profusely. Edward, however, was still angry. “Did you kick him out because my father donated to this hospital? If not, would you let a doctor like him run wild?”
The director shook his head. “Actually, Paul had only been at this hospital for a week. His father is my old classmate. He asked me to hire his son. I had no idea he was such a person,” he said, looking truly sorry.
Edward’s father, it turned out, was the president of a large company with branches all over the country. He donated a portion of his profits to medical facilities, this hospital in particular, because his wife—Edward’s mother—had been taken care of here when she was young.
A few days later, Paul contacted me, begging me to ask the director to hire him back. He had apparently offended patients with his arrogant attitude at every hospital he’d worked at. I couldn’t believe he kept making the same mistakes. Edward was next to me when Paul called. He snatched the phone from my hand and yelled at Paul, threatening to report him for harassment if he ever contacted me again. He must have been scared, because he never called again.
Sometime later, I stopped by a convenience store and saw Paul working there. Apparently, no hospital would hire him. He was crying his eyes out, saying his wife and child had left him, but I felt no sympathy. I just decided to avoid that convenience store.
The following year, I gave birth to a healthy baby girl. She was so adorable, a tiny miracle I had never expected. I vowed to raise her with love and responsibility, no matter what. Edward was smitten from the moment she was born, a wonderfully sweet and doting father.
My life, which had once been filled with the bitter taste of regret and betrayal, was now overflowing with a sweetness I had never thought possible. I had a husband who cherished me, a beautiful daughter who was the light of our lives, and a future that felt boundless. Looking back, I realized that Paul’s hurtful words had been a strange sort of gift. They had freed me from a life that was slowly eroding my spirit and pushed me onto a path that led to true happiness. His immaturity had been his downfall, but for me, it had been the catalyst for a second chance at everything.