The Nurse Who Replaced the Groom

One month before the wedding, I saw my boyfriend's post online.

She's a nurse---gentle, kind, beautiful, and generous.

My heart warmed. I was just about to like his post.

Then he added, But she's seen so many men's private parts. It really bothers me.

She must know people would mind, right? That's why she doesn't want a wedding fund.

My hand froze mid-air. My enthusiasm for wedding planning cooled instantly.

He was still torn between choosing me or his divorced childhood sweetheart.

I quickly made the decision for him.

The latest post was from Brian. I recognized it immediately.

His username was "Century of Solitude," and his profile picture showed the Alps.

Century of Solitude was the book he still couldn't finish but kept on his desk to look cultured.

The Alps---he'd been talking about conquering them for three years.

His first line read: [I'm getting married. She's a nurse---gentle, kind, beautiful, and generous.]

He was a man of few words. Managing to squeeze out this much praise wasn't easy for him.

My heart warmed. I was about to give it a like.

Before my cursor could click, he posted another line.

[She deals with bodily fluids every day and has seen so many men's private parts. It really bothers me.]

My hand stopped in mid-air.

I remembered how he'd been frowning lately, telling me he actually had a cleanliness obsession.

While I sat there stunned, the replies had already reached a dozen.

[Urology department, right? Nurses are basically just there to serve people, aren't they?]

[Dude, look on the bright side---someone who's seen that much isn't likely to cheat.]

I'd seen comments like these plenty of times before. But this time was different.

My heart clenched inexplicably. I waited for Brian's response.

He quickly posted two more lines.

[I figure she knows people would mind, right? That's why she doesn't want a wedding fund.]

[I'm really conflicted right now, because she's not the only option.]

I slowly lowered my hand, staring at the scrolling comments, unable to speak.

No wonder as the wedding approached, he seemed less and less concerned.

Ordering our outfits, choosing wedding favors---he'd been completely indifferent, telling me to decide everything myself.

After all, he had a much bigger decision weighing on his mind.

What troubled him was that Peyton Smith, his childhood friend, had come back.

Divorced, no kids, and now worth twice as much.

The flame his parents had forced him to extinguish years ago was rekindling.

I'd already sensed the turbulent emotions in his eyes when he looked at Peyton.

...

The wedding was next month. The invitations were half-written.

Should I still marry him?

It felt like a fishbone stuck in my throat. Thinking of Brian made me want to vomit but unable to swallow.

My grandfather, who'd raised me, was gravely ill. He was clinging to life just to see me get married.

If I didn't go through with it, I was afraid it would break his heart.

By the time I returned from a tasteless lunch, the post had been deleted.

Two people stood at the nurses' station. Tall, upright Brian was hard to miss.

He was looking down, comforting someone in his arms---that cascade of sleek black hair belonged to Peyton.

Peyton had fair skin and a voluptuous figure. She wore a man's oversized jacket over her bikini.

She'd seen me from far away but made no attempt to step out of Brian's embrace.

Only when I came closer did she shyly pull away.

"Charlotte... don't get the wrong idea..."

She made sure I couldn't miss the blush lingering on her face.

Brian only noticed me when he turned around. His face showed no trace of panic.

He urgently pushed Peyton toward me. "Peyton just cut her foot swimming. Can you check if she needs a tetanus shot?"

"At the beach?" I couldn't help asking.

He couldn't swim to save his life. I'd spent three years trying to teach him with no success.

We hadn't picked the banquet menu yet. The officiant was waiting to finalize the ceremony. He'd said he had no time.

But he had time to go swimming with her.

My wavering heart had already begun to tilt decisively in one direction.

"The pool..." He impatiently cut me off. "Does it matter where? Did you even hear what I said?"

An image flashed in my mind---him standing at the poolside, watching Peyton splash around, posting those anonymous comments.

That line "she's not the only option" became crystal clear.

My throat tightened. My voice turned cold. "Find a doctor. Why are you asking me?"

Brian grabbed my arm. "Registration takes too long. Just help her clean the wound first."

I glanced at him. "I'm just a nurse. I don't own the hospital."

The frustration in my chest made it impossible to stay calm, especially seeing Peyton still clinging to him.

Peyton flinched slightly. "Brian, I should just register. Don't make things difficult for Charlotte."

The small distance she'd created completely vanished as she pressed closer again.

Brian acted as if that arm was paralyzed, seemingly unaware of her soft chest pressed against him.

Perhaps spoiled by my usual compliance, he showed a hint of displeasure.

"What's difficult about it? It's just a simple task. Isn't this what she does?"

All those mocking comments from the forum flashed before my eyes, word by word.

My fingers, clutching my clothes, nearly drew blood.

Someone gently tapped my shoulder just then.

I turned to see the family member of the little boy admitted to pediatrics last night.

"Nurse, could you please check if my son's IV needs to come out?"

He towered over Brian, looking at me with a gentle expression.

The IV had just been inserted. I knew he was giving me an out.

"I'll take a look."

"Charlotte!"

Brian called out behind me, his voice neither too loud nor too quiet.

I ignored him and headed toward the ward, quickly recalling that the family member's name was Ethan Miller.

Around the corner, I stopped. "Thank you."

A slender hand extended a tissue. Only then did I realize I'd been crying.

Ethan patted my shoulder.

"Sometimes when people panic about their sick family members, they really are hard to communicate with."

He thought Brian was a frantic patient's relative.

The next second, he pulled a bag of candy from his pocket and pressed it into my hand.

I froze.

He looked a bit embarrassed. "Eating something sweet might help you feel better."

Then he added, "It's my son's---secretly, don't let him see."

The tightness in my chest eased slightly. I couldn't help but laugh.

I remembered the little boy named Hudson well.

He never cried or fussed during blood draws or injections.

He'd just ask after each procedure, "Miss, can I have one candy?"

I pulled out the candy I kept in my pocket and showed him.

"He has several tests today, so I still have..."

Ethan smiled too, his expression full of tenderness.

"Thank you, but when you're around, he behaves much better."

I paused. He quickly clarified, "No ulterior motive---his mother used to be a nurse too."

A fellow professional. I suddenly understood why he'd intervened so abruptly.

A deliberate cough came from above. I looked up.

Brian stood there, his face dark, glaring at me. Peyton still clung to his arm.

The bloody scratch on her pale foot had long since dried, yet she still stood on tiptoe.

Peyton let out a light laugh. "Nurses really do have so many people to take care of. No wonder Charlotte is so attentive."

Before she finished speaking, Brian's face had already turned dark.

He snorted coldly through his nose, then turned and walked away supporting Peyton.

The contemptuous glance she threw my way looked like a proud queen surveying her domain.

I was speechless.

A month ago, she'd shown up at Brian's door in tears.

When I came out of the kitchen, she had her arms around his neck.

Only when she saw me did she awkwardly let go.

"I'm divorced."

Those four words didn't seem directed at Brian.

They were a declaration of war against me.

...

I'd known about her for a long time.

Back when Brian and I talked about everything, he'd mentioned a childhood friend who had a crush on him.

"My mom wouldn't let me hang out with her. She had a bad reputation."

"Lots of guys chased her, but she always followed me around."

He'd sounded annoyed, but his expression held that unmistakable male pride.

"Never had your heart race for her?"

He'd stopped smiling then, looking at me mischievously.

"If my heart raced for her, what would that leave for you? You're the only one who's ever made my heart race."

Coming from someone not good with words, that one line struck right at my heart.

So when he casually mentioned that Peyton was divorced and coming back, I didn't think much of it.

Not until she cried while hanging onto him, and he looked at her with eyes full of concern, wiping away her tears.

I realized I must have missed something.

An unimportant childhood friend wouldn't warrant him bringing her up specifically.

In the early morning hours, Brian sent two messages.

[Don't overthink it. I was just being impatient.]

[Charlotte, I do love you.]

Random and out of context. I looked at them but didn't reply.

My phone notified me of an update to a topic I followed. I clicked to find Brian had posted.

The timestamp showed a few minutes ago.

[It really bothers me. Even her touching me feels dirty.]

[Divorce isn't this disturbing. At least she'd only been with one man.]

[If she were even a janitor, I'd feel better about it.]

I silently read each line, feeling a deep chasm split open in my heart.

Those two messages didn't seem so random anymore.

I knew clearly he was wavering, torn.

That "I love you" was him winding himself up.

But I'd already heard the sound of the mechanism breaking.

I thought it over. This wedding would happen, but it didn't have to be with him.

I logged in with my real name and posted a reply.

[Brian, we're breaking up.]