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611words2026-01-26 11:22

My son died from acute kidney injury after failed emergency treatment. The surgeon declared him dead.
My nurse wife, Amanda, urged me to donate his other kidney to save someone else's life. "Let our son's life continue. That little girl is a promising ballet dancer. It's fate they matched."
Heartbroken and barely holding myself together, I agreed.

But at my son's funeral, Amanda arrived with the recipient girl and her father.
That’s when I realized the surgeon wasn’t just her father—he was Harrison Sterling, Amanda's unrequited love for years.
They’d lied about my son’s death just to get me to sign the donation agreement. All so they could take his kidney.
Standing together, Amanda, Harrison, and that girl looked like a perfect family.
I laughed through tears. Who knew a mother could trade her own child's life to please another?
Rage consumed me. My son was murdered. Why should his killers live happily?

I grabbed a knife and charged. But Harrison was faster. He gunned his car straight at me, backing over me again and again until everything went black.
Then, everything shifted. I woke up—back in the hospital corridor, moments before my son was wheeled into surgery.
This time, those sick bastards will pay.
The sharp smell of disinfectant burned my nostrils.

I touched my head frantically—it was still there!
Amanda stood before me in her scrubs, snapping impatiently.
"Ethan Miller! Are you deaf? Help me get Noah into the OR now!"
The desperate look on her face sent chills down my spine.
In my past life, it was at this moment she told me our son had accidentally cut his stomach while playing, and the sharp object had pierced his kidney. She said he needed immediate surgery.
Rushing from work, I’d blamed myself for leaving him with her—Amanda barely knew how to care for a child.
She’d scolded me then: "Stop looking at me like I killed him! It was an accident! Just focus on getting him surgery!"
I hadn’t recognized the excitement beneath her panic. Not worry. Greed.
Back then, lost in fear, I’d just nodded.
"Okay."
We pushed his gurney towards the fifth-floor OR. He never came out.
Not this time. I wouldn’t let that operating room devour my boy again.
I gripped the gurney rails, forcing it to a sudden stop.
Amanda jerked against the resistance. Thinking something jammed the wheels, she glanced down.
Finding nothing, she smacked the rail beside Noah’s head.
"Ethan! What the hell are you doing? Move! If you delay his surgery, I swear—!"
She played the frantic mother perfectly.
But Noah’s head bounced from the impact, and she didn’t flinch.
I stepped between her and the gurney.
"He’s not having surgery. Not here."
Amanda’s jaw dropped. Recovering, she softened her tone, grabbing my arm.
"Honey, I’m sorry, I was just scared for Noah. Please?"
She pleaded. "He needs this surgery now. Let’s not fight, okay? I’m begging you."
Her act drew murmurs from staff and patients nearby.
"What kind of father would stop his son from surgery?"
"Totally irresponsible."
"The mom's a nurse! Would she hurt her own kid? This dad’s clueless!"
Dr. Harrison Sterling, Amanda’s Harrison, strode towards us, concern etched on his face.
"Amanda? What’s the hold-up?"
Seeing him, Amanda’s voice turned saccharine. She shot me a venomous glance.
"It’s him. He won’t let Noah into surgery."
Harrison adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, offering a practiced, reassuring smile.
"Mr. Miller, please don’t panic. It’s a minor procedure. Noah will be out in two hours."
Amanda lunged for the gurney, trying to wrench it from me.
When I held firm, her mask cracked.
"Ethan! What the hell is wrong with you?!"