When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 91

Amelia

Once in the hallway, I took three deep breaths, forcing my face into a neutral expression. Just another day at the hospital. Just another patient I needed to avoid. The pager on my hip buzzed with perfect timing—a medical emergency requiring immediate attention. Work was exactly what I needed right now.

"Dr. Thompson, we need you in Delivery Room 3," Jenny called out as she rushed past me.

I pulled out my phone and checked the hospital system for details on the emergency. It was the twenty-eight-year-old woman I had saved, and she’d just attempted suicide after waking up. My stomach churned. Cases like this were always tough, demanding not only medical expertise but also a lot of emotional sensitivity.

"What's her status?" I asked, joining the team as we entered the patient's room.

"She's awake but refusing treatment," Dr. Martinez explained quietly. "Blood pressure is stable, but she's showing concerning levels of the medication she took."

The woman lay on the bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. When Dr. Martinez attempted to explain the treatment plan, she turned her head away.

"Just let me die," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Please, just let me go."

Dr. Martinez's tone softened, but he stood his ground. "Listen, you have your baby now. You’re not alone in this; we’re here to help you through it."

I watched the medical team suggest psychiatric intervention to the family members huddled anxiously in the corner. The patient's mother, a middle-aged woman with swollen eyes, nodded desperately at anything that might help her daughter.

"I'd like to speak with her alone," I heard myself say, surprising even myself. Something about this case resonated with me—perhaps because I understood what it meant to face motherhood when everything else seemed to be falling apart.

The team looked uncertain but eventually agreed. As they filed out, the patient's mother grabbed my hand, her fingers digging into my skin.

"Please help her," she begged, tears streaming down her face. "She was so happy about this baby until last week. I don't know what happened."

I nodded, gently freeing my hand. "I'll do my best."

Alone with the patient, I adjusted the fetal monitor, ensuring the sound was clear. The steady, rapid heartbeat filled the room.

"Hear that?" I said softly. "That's your baby's heartbeat. Strong and determined, just like they should be."

She didn't respond, but I noticed her hand move slightly toward her rounded belly.

"I'm a single mom too," I continued, pulling a chair closer to her bed. "It wasn't what I planned, but it turned out to be the best decision of my life."

Her eyes flickered toward me, the first sign she was actually listening.

"Life throws unpredictable curveballs," I said. "But you obviously have resources many people would envy—a mother who loves you, access to excellent medical care, and a healthy baby."

I reached into my bag and pulled out my sketchbook—something I carried everywhere, a habit I'd maintained since medical school. I flipped to a series of sketches I'd done of mothers with their newborns, captured during quiet moments after delivery.

"Look," I said, showing her the drawings. "Each new life is a miracle. Each mother-child bond is unique. When I was pregnant and alone, I was terrified. But the moment I held my babies, everything made sense."

She finally turned her head completely toward me, her eyes moving from the sketches to my face.

"You can only see the next horizon if you're alive to look for it," I told her. "And that horizon might be more beautiful than anything you can imagine right now."

We talked for nearly thirty minutes. By the time I left, her eyes had lost some of their emptiness, and she'd agreed to the treatment plan. I wasn't naive enough to think one conversation had solved her problems, but it was a start.

"Thank you," her mother whispered as I passed her in the hallway. "Please stay close to her. She needs someone who understands."

"I will," I promised. "But what she needs most right now is you. Just be present."

---

After finishing my rounds, I headed back to my office for a much-needed coffee break. As I approached the door, I spotted Ashley waiting outside. She looked different—her typically flawless makeup was minimal, her designer clothes replaced by a simple blouse and jeans. When she saw me, she straightened and gave a tentative knock on my open door.

"Dr. Thompson," she said formally. "Could I speak with you for a moment?"

I kept my expression professionally polite, though my eyes probably betrayed my wariness. "I'm between patients. We can talk in the corridor if you'd like."

I deliberately led her to a quiet corner of the hallway, leaning against the stainless steel railing and maintaining a comfortable distance between us.

"I'm leaving New York," she announced without preamble.

"That sounds like a good decision," I replied, my tone carefully neutral.

Ashley looked down at her hands. "I wanted to clear something up before I go."

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Everything about Ethan and me is a lie. I made it all up because I was jealous," Ashley said.

I watched her closely, noticing how uncomfortable she looked. "Why bring all this up? We don’t need to talk about the past."

"Because I'm leaving, and..." she paused, taking a breath. "Because Ethan made it clear that I’ve caused enough damage."

"Our marriage had an expiration date from the beginning," I said, deciding transparency was the best approach. "Ethan and I were never what people assumed we were."

She looked surprised by this admission. "Still, I shouldn't have interfered."

We stood in awkward silence for a moment. I didn't offer explicit forgiveness—some wounds run too deep for that—but I didn't express the anger I once might have either.

"I hope you find what you're looking for," I finally said, straightening up from the railing. "Wherever you're going."

Ashley nodded, accepting this as the closest thing to closure she would get. "Goodbye, Dr. Thompson."

I watched her walk away, feeling a strange sense of a chapter ending. The drama that had once seemed so important now felt distant, like a story I'd read about someone else's life.

---

As I was preparing to leave for the day, my phone rang with Olivia's familiar ringtone. Her face appeared on my screen, theatrical as always.

"You will not believe what I just heard," she announced without greeting.

I settled into my office chair.

"Noah told me about Ashley," she continued. "He says Ethan wants me to convince you to be more forgiving."

I rolled my eyes. "And?"

"And I told him I respect whatever decision you make," she said firmly. "I'm in your corner, always."

"Marriage is like a Wall Street investment," I sighed, twirling a pen between my fingers. "Pick right, you win at life. Pick wrong, and you might lose everything."

Olivia was quiet for a moment. "You know, for someone who claims to be done with marriage, you sure think about it a lot."

"Occupational hazard," I replied lightly. "I literally bring new family members into the world every day."

After we hung up, I gathered my things and headed out. Today had been emotionally draining, from the suicidal patient to Ashley's unexpected apology. All I wanted now was to go home and hug my children—the only constants in my ever-complicated life.