An Unexpected Husband

Maya's eyes darted between the two of them, her clipboard held tight to her chest. "Dr. Rowe, I didn't expect you to know the patient's husband."

Coralie's gaze locked onto the familiar features of the man before her. The exhaustion from the grueling six-hour surgery vanished, replaced by a freezing shock that rooted her to the floor. Desmond looked like a wreck. The usual pristine neatness of his tailored suit had vanished. The sharp lines of his face were drawn tight with a mix of fear and an urgent, desperate concern. He forced a stiff posture, trying to mask the raw panic practically rolling off him in waves.

"Are you her husband?" Coralie asked, her voice sounding hollow to her own ears. Her eyes flicked toward the closed operating room doors, then back to the man she had married.

Maya stepped forward, tapping the edge of her pen against the medical file. "Yes, that's him. He is the one who signed the surgery consent form for her."

A biting chill washed over Coralie's skin, turning the blood in her veins to ice. The color drained from her cheeks, leaving her face ashen beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. "I see."

Desmond locked his jaw, his knuckles turning white at his sides. "Coralie, I will explain this to you later."

Coralie dug her fingernails into her palms, welcoming the sharp sting. She forced her breathing to steady, shoving the swirling chaos of her mind aside. She wore her professional doctor demeanor like an iron shield. "Don't worry. The surgery was successful. Both the mother and child are safe. They need to stay in the hospital for a few days for observation and IV fluids to maintain the pregnancy. If everything goes well, we can discharge them this weekend."

A heavy, ragged breath escaped Desmond's lips, his tense shoulders dropping a fraction. "That is great news." He paused, his dark eyes meeting hers again, carrying an unreadable weight. "Thank you for your hard work, Coralie."

"It is nothing. Regardless of whose wife she is, my job as a doctor is to do my best to treat her."

Coralie turned on her heel, ignoring the ache in her legs, and walked away down the corridor.

She retreated to her private office, poured a glass of cold water from the dispenser, and downed it in one gulp. The freezing liquid did little to numb the frantic beating of her heart. She dropped into her desk chair, burying her face in her hands. Ten minutes stretched into an eternity of silence before a soft, hesitant knock sounded at the door.

"Coralie, it is me," his deep voice drifted through the thick wood.

Coralie rose from her chair and pulled the door open.

Desmond stood in the dim hallway. The deep furrows between his brows remained etched into his skin, and his eyes were bloodshot. His white dress shirt was a mess of wrinkles, but the dark, rusty smears of dried blood and large water stains soaking his cuffs drew her immediate, horrified attention. He had either carried that woman covered in amniotic fluid, or she had wept desperately into his arms.

Coralie walked back to her desk and sat down, folding her hands over her lap. "Have you visited her?"

Desmond nodded slowly, stepping into the room and closing the door with a soft click. "Yes, she is asleep."

"She..."

"The child is not mine." Desmond stated, his voice firm and unwavering, cutting through the heavy air of the office.

The invisible vise crushing Coralie's chest shattered instantly. All the defensive tension bled from her muscles, leaving her sinking weak and relieved into her leather chair.

Desmond ran a trembling hand through his messy hair. "She got into a car accident and was in critical condition when I found her. I rushed her to the hospital. When the doctors told me surgery was needed immediately, they said the consent form required a family member's signature. I had no other choice."

Coralie exhaled a long, shaky breath, the logical pieces snapping into place. "I asked my assistant to get the family member's consent."

"I realize that now. The corridor was packed with people, and it was hardly the time or place to explain the situation to you at the operating room door. If the staff knew I was not her husband, they would have refused to operate. Saving her life had to take priority over hospital protocols."

Guilt pricked at Coralie's conscience, twisting in her gut. She had doubted him over a misunderstanding. Desmond was a steadfast, gentle man who handled every crisis with level-headed grace. The idea of him having a secret affair was absurd. He had simply been driving to the company, witnessed a horrific crash, and acted as a savior for a pregnant stranger in distress.

"Is everything at your company sorted? I am here now, so you can stop worrying about the patient."

Desmond opened his mouth, a shadow of hesitation crossing his sharp features. "Coralie, I..."

"What is wrong?"

Desmond shook his head, the momentary vulnerability vanishing behind a mask of calm. "The company is fine. Are you finished with your shift? I will wait for you outside. Let us go home together."

The night shift nurses would monitor the pregnant woman through the night, leaving Coralie with no further medical duties. She changed out of her scrubs and pulled her white coat off, hanging it on the hook. Opening her desk drawer, she retrieved her prenatal examination report. She folded the crisp paper neatly and tucked it into the inner compartment of her wallet. Grabbing her leather bag, she headed out into the cool night air.

Desmond's white Porsche Cayenne sat parked in its usual spot near the hospital entrance. Coralie spotted the sleek vehicle instantly and quickened her pace across the asphalt. Before she even reached the passenger side, a sharp, bitter scent of tobacco hit her nose, making her cough.

Desmond stood leaning against the driver's side door in the dim, flickering glow of the streetlights. A bright orange ember flared in the darkness as he took a long, deep drag.

Coralie frowned, closing the distance between them. "Since when do you smoke?"

Desmond jolted at the sudden sound of her voice. The cigarette slipped from his fingers, hitting the ground in a shower of tiny sparks.

Coralie looked down, her frown deepening. A dozen crushed cigarette butts littered the ground around his expensive leather shoes. He had smoked through nearly an entire pack in the span of a single hour. The man standing before her felt like a frantic stranger, not the composed executive she knew.

"What exactly happened today?"

Desmond crushed the dropped cigarette beneath the heel of his shoe. Exhaustion lined his face, casting dark shadows under his eyes, yet he still reached out to open the passenger door for her with his usual practiced courtesy. "It is just work stress. Get in the car."

"Is it serious?"

"It is nothing."

Coralie slid into the cold leather seat and pulled the seatbelt across her chest, the metallic click echoing in the quiet cabin.

Desmond climbed into the driver's seat a moment later. He cranked the engine, shifted the gear with a harsh jerk, and slammed his foot on the gas pedal. The heavy SUV surged forward with a sudden lurch, tires squealing against the pavement.

"Stop!" Coralie shouted, bracing her hands hard against the dashboard as her heart leaped into her throat.

Desmond slammed the brakes, throwing them both forward against their belts with a brutal force. "What is wrong?"

A furious shout muffled through the windshield answered his question. "Are you blind? Watch where you are going! Can you not see a person walking here? Do you think you can afford the hospital bills if you run me over?"

A pedestrian glared at them from just inches away from the front bumper, waving a fist in the air and spitting curses.

Desmond always picked her up from the hospital. He was a meticulous, cautious driver who never made a single mistake behind the wheel. The sheer recklessness he just displayed sent a cold shiver racing down Coralie's spine. Something was terribly wrong with him tonight.

The angry pedestrian hurled a few more vicious insults before stomping off into the dark night, disappearing around the corner.

Desmond clamped his mouth shut, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He shifted the car back into drive and merged onto the desolate main street, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.

Coralie watched his rigid profile, the unease churning in her stomach returning with a vengeance. "Are you sure you are okay?"

Desmond shot her a dark, impatient glare, his voice snapping like a whip. "I said I am fine."

The harsh anger in his tone stunned Coralie into silence. She turned her head away, staring out the window at the passing blur of streetlights. They did not exchange a single word for several long blocks, the tension in the car thick enough to cut with a knife.

"I am sorry, Coralie," Desmond's voice finally broke the quiet, sounding hoarse and strained. "I have a lot on my plate right now. My head is a mess, and I did not mean to take it out on you."

Coralie gave a slight nod, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead. "Okay. Just focus on driving safely."

"Yeah."

The silence stretched out again, heavy and suffocating inside the confined space of the vehicle.

"Coralie."

"Yes?"

Desmond swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "That woman from earlier. The one you operated on. She is alone in the hospital right now. Do you think she will be alright?"

Coralie let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking her head. "So you are still thinking about her."

"I am not thinking about her like that. I am just concerned for a person's well-being."

"The hospital staff is monitoring her around the clock. The administration will contact her family and have them come over. She is in good hands, Desmond."

Desmond stared straight ahead, his unblinking gaze locked on the empty street. "What if her family cannot make it?"

Coralie shifted in her seat, narrowing her eyes at his rigid, defensive posture. "How do you know they cannot make it?"

Desmond opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He clamped his lips together and focused intensely on the road, as if obeying her earlier command to drive safely and refusing to utter another syllable.

The rest of the journey home passed in a miserable, suffocating silence.

By the time the Porsche pulled into the driveway of their house, the eastern sky was already bleeding into a pale, pre-dawn gray. Desmond threw the car into park but made no move to unbuckle his seatbelt or turn off the engine.

He rolled his window down slightly, letting the cold morning air flood the cabin. "Go inside and get some rest. I have to head straight to the office to handle an emergency."

Coralie nodded and stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind her. She did not bother asking what massive corporate emergency required him to work at five in the morning on a Saturday. Sometimes, having a keen sixth sense was a curse. If she played the fool, she could pretend this night was just a stressful, chaotic blur and nothing more. She watched the taillights of his car fade down the street before turning her key in the front door.

Saturday arrived, marking Desmond's thirty-first birthday. The two of them had made plans weeks ago to visit the old family estate and celebrate the occasion together with his parents.

Coralie had picked up another grueling night shift the evening prior, pushing herself to the brink of exhaustion before finally clocking out at eight in the morning. The hospital locker room was quiet and empty as she packed her belongings. She unzipped her leather tote bag and pulled out her wallet. Resting inside the cash compartment was the prenatal examination report, still folded into a neat, small square.

She traced the sharp edge of the paper with her thumb, feeling the rapid pulse in her wrist. This was meant to be his grand birthday surprise. She had spent the last two weeks imagining the look of joy on his face when he learned he was going to be a father. Now, a suffocating weight of hesitation anchored her to the wooden bench.

The bizarre events of the other night still played on a continuous, maddening loop in her mind. The rusty bloodstains on his white shirt. The chain-smoking in the dark parking lot. The frantic, aggressive driving. The suspicious questions about a stranger's family. None of it made sense, and the lingering doubt gnawed at her insides like a physical pain.

Should she still give this report to him today?

Coralie let out a long sigh, pushing the wallet back into the depths of her bag. She slammed the metal locker door shut, the loud clang echoing through the room, and slung the heavy strap over her shoulder.

A sharp ring cut through the quiet air, startling her.

Coralie fished her phone out of her coat pocket. The screen flashed with an incoming call from her best friend. She swiped the green button and lifted the phone to her ear. "Stella?"

Her best friend's voice came through the speaker in a frantic, breathless shriek that forced Coralie to pull the phone away from her head. "Coralie! You need to get over here right now! I just watched your husband walk into the family house holding hands with a pregnant woman!"