After graduating from med school, I took a job as an ambulance driver.
Initially, I planned for it to be a temporary fix until a residency or a physician opening became available, but as time passed, I settled into the rhythm and found I didn't want to change a thing.
The work is grueling, of course—not just physically, but emotionally. Seeing pain and suffering every day takes its toll. However, I built a real brotherhood with the crew there, and the thought of leaving them behind felt like walking away from family.
I live in a small town in a house I inherited from my grandfather. To get the place back into shape, I started picking up every overtime shift I could. I had this dream that one day I'd finish the renovations and bring a woman home to start a life together. The irony was that because of the long hours, I'd never actually had a girlfriend. I've always been a bit insecure, the kind of guy who gets in his own head, so I never really had the nerve to just walk up and talk to someone.
Then, on a routine call, I saw her. Anyone who believes in love at first sight knows exactly what that feels like.
She was fragile, lying in bed and unable to stand. The paramedics told me she had a severe leg injury and couldn't walk. Since there weren't any other guys on the shift that day, I stepped up and carried her out to the rig myself. As I held her in my arms, the rest of the world just blinked out of existence. I looked into her eyes and knew, right then, that I wanted to protect her for the rest of my life. Now, I just had to figure out how to win her over, which meant I had to shove my shyness into a dark corner.
***
The fracture was complicated, so Chloe was in the hospital for a long time. I visited her constantly, bringing fruit and flowers. She knew I was head over heels, but she remained fairly distant, meeting my gestures with a certain coolness. My colleagues kept me going during that time, cheering me on and telling me not to give up.
Once she was discharged a month later, I kept up the pursuit outside of work. Chloe was hesitant and kept her guard up; it took me a full year of persistence just to melt the ice around her heart. Even when we finally started dating, I never felt entirely sure of her love, so I worked twice as hard to earn it.
Eventually, I worked up the courage to propose. She turned me down twice, but on the third try, she finally said yes.
Shortly after the wedding, she got pregnant and gave birth to our son. I felt like I had finally achieved the dream—the family I'd always wanted. My wife stayed home to manage the house and look after the boy while I worked. I'd come home to a clean house and the smell of a home-cooked meal, so I never had a reason to linger late at the station.
The only thing that troubled me was her lack of interest in any physical intimacy. I couldn't wrap my head around the reason, and after one too many rejections, I finally asked her point-blank. I didn't like what she had to say.
Chloe told me she had the deepest respect and "fondness" for me, but it was the kind of love you feel for a relative, not a partner. It hit me like a physical blow: all this time, she hadn't actually loved me. Hearing that from my own wife was devastating. I shut down. I started picking up even more extra shifts just so I wouldn't have to face her at home. It took a month before I pulled myself together and decided to try and win her over all over again.
***
I started stepping up my game. We went on more beach vacations, went out to nice restaurants, and grabbed coffee together. I showered her with gifts and flowers, took over the housework, and watched our son as often as possible so she could have a break.
Slowly, I noticed her becoming more affectionate. She began expressing her gratitude with a tenderness that made me feel like I was walking on air. During this time, she was working on a second degree, this time in law. She hated her job as a dispatcher for a local car service and was determined to start a career as an attorney.
Once she got her degree, she transitioned into legal work almost immediately, which secretly worried me. She started changing—paying more attention to her appearance, hitting the gym, and watching what she ate. Most people thought I was overthinking it, but I could feel that something was off.
I was terrified she had found someone else and was doing all this for him. To quiet the voice in my head, I started checking up on her. I scrutinized everything—her commute, her phone, her schedule. I didn't find anything at first, but a few weeks later, the truth came out.
***
It was summer, and Chloe had taken our son to stay with her mother in the country. I didn't mind; I knew how much he loved it there. When she got back, she told me she needed to have a serious talk. That's when I knew the floor was about to drop out.
I was bracing for the worst, and I was right to be. Chloe sat across from me and took my hands in hers. Looking down with a quiet sigh, she told me she had fallen in love. I prayed it was some kind of cruel joke, but she kept going. It was a colleague, someone she shared an office with. They had felt a spark instantly, but they had only just decided to see where a real relationship could go.
She swore to me that she hadn't cheated, that she respected me too much to do something like that behind my back. I looked at her and realized the woman of my dreams—my own wife—was leaving me.
I didn't try to force her to stay. I only asked that she bring our son to see me often and that she stay safe. She hugged me goodbye, apologized one last time, and then walked out, closing the door behind her. I won't lie; it destroyed me. I felt like I'd been trampled, like my soul had been ground into the dirt. I was incredibly lonely, but I had no right to hold her captive. My entire married life had been a battle for "us," doing everything to make her comfortable. I wasn't the guy who went out drinking with buddies or looked at other women.
The betrayal snapped something in me. I became irritable and bitter. It started causing friction at the station, so I eventually quit and looked for something new. I decided to leave medicine entirely to get away from the memories. A friend helped me get a job doing fly-in-fly-out construction work, and my income shot up significantly. By then, the divorce was final. I was starting to get used to being alone when she suddenly reappeared.
I was happy to see her, especially since things with the other man hadn't worked out. Deep down, I still loved her, but I couldn't bring myself to forgive her. She asked if I could take our son in for a while while she looked for a new apartment. I suspected she wanted to move back in with me, but I never made the offer. I knew no good would come of it; one betrayal was more than enough for one lifetime.
Still, I hold no malice toward her. She's the mother of my child, and she'll never be a stranger to me. Once our son turned fifteen, he started spending more and more time at my place, seeking out that male perspective on things. He understands the situation now and accepts that his mom and I are divorced and living separate lives. I truly hope, with all my heart, that he doesn't end up following in my footsteps.
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