Strangers From Now On

In the dead of night, a severe allergic reaction struck. My throat began to swell, cutting off my air. Panicking, I dialed my husband, Nathan, who was a doctor on duty at the hospital.

Hello? he answered.

He rarely picked up during a night shift, yet this time he answered almost instantly. A wave of relief and warmth washed over me.

"Nathan, I'm having an allergic reaction. Can you..."

Before I could finish, the playful voice of his female intern, Sienna, drifted through the line.

"Haha, fooled you! The call hasn't actually gone through yet. Dr. Nathan is busy right now, so please try again later!"

The line rang a dozen more times before the call actually connected.

"I'm on shift. We'll talk when I get home. Bye."

My throat had swollen shut, leaving me unable to make a sound. Not that he gave me a chance to try. The cold, mechanical dial tone buzzed in my ear, throbbing against my temples. When I tried calling back, his phone was already turned off.

The antihistamines I had swallowed did nothing. Instead, my chest tightened, and my breath grew shallow. Fighting to keep my eyes open, I forced myself to dial 911. But I couldn't even rasp out my address. Under the operator's urgent, frantic questions, the phone slipped from my limp fingers.

In the final second before darkness took me, a single thought crystallized: If I survive this, Nathan and I are done. For good.

When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I saw was the anxious face of my best friend, Gwen.

"Vivi, thank God you're awake! I nearly died of fright when the hospital called me!" She squeezed my hand, her eyes red. "Do you have any idea how bad it was? You went into anaphylactic shock. They had to resuscitate you for six hours! You've been asleep for two days and a night!"

I tried to comfort her, but the moment I moved my lips, a wave of numbness spread across my face. I looked around the room. It was a four-bed ward, occupied only by myself and an older woman in the corner. There was no sign of Nathan.

"Don't bother looking. He hasn't set foot in here," Gwen said, her voice dripping with irritation.

Forcing myself upright, I fumbled around for my phone. There was only a single text from him. It wasn't asking where I was, or why I hadn't come home. It was just a cold, brief update: Out of town for a week.

No discussion. Just an announcement.

After a moment's hesitation, I typed back: I had an allergic reaction.

Take your meds.

What if I'm in the hospital?

Don't be dramatic. There's medicine at home.

The reply was entirely expected, yet it still made my eyes sting. I swallowed the lump in my throat, letting go of the very last shred of hope I held for him.

After three days, my condition improved slightly, and I practically forced Gwen to go back to work. At noon, as I went down to pick up my takeout, I walked past the nurses' station and caught them gossiping.

"Did you see that gorgeous couple in private room 502? They look like movie stars."

"And they're so sweet together. It was just a mild allergy, but her boyfriend pulled strings to get our deputy director to run her allergen panels personally."

A cold, bitter feeling crept into my chest.

Once upon a time, Nathan had been just as terrified for me. The first time I had a severe reaction, he had stayed by my bedside for twenty-four hours straight. As long as I couldn't eat or drink, he refused to touch a single thing.

He had never been one to show emotion, but that night, he wept as he held me close. "Vivi, you're the only family I have left. Please don't leave me."

Today, all I got was a text telling me to take my medicine. How passionate a man is when he loves you, and how utterly freezing he becomes when he doesn't.

Clutching my takeout bag, I turned around. But a casual glance through a half-open door froze me in my tracks.

Inside private room 502, Nathan was leaning over a bed, tending to a young woman. Sienna. He was pouring her water, gently peeling a piece of fruit for her.

Just a few nights ago, my throat had been terribly dry, and I had asked him for a glass of water.

He had scoffed, "Is a sore throat keeping you from using your legs or your hands? I've had a brutal shift, Vivi. Can you give me a break?"

I had felt so small, so pathetic. I wanted to explain that I was too dizzy to stand, but before I could get a word out, he had rolled over, taking most of the blanket with him. From that night on, I never asked him for anything again.

Sienna pouted playfully, though her lips curved into a smug smile. "Dr. Nathan, it was just a little itch. You're being way too dramatic."

Nathan maintained his usual stoic face, but his voice was remarkably gentle. "Allergic reactions can be lethal. Just lie still. Once the lab results are clear, I'll take you out."

A dry laugh caught in my throat. So he did know allergies could kill. It was just that my life didn't carry the same weight as someone else's.

I pulled out my phone and quickly typed a message: Where are you?

Half a minute later, the reply came: Working overtime.

The chime of my phone seemed to catch his attention. Nathan looked up, his gaze sweeping over the hallway and landing directly on me. He held my eyes for less than a half-second before casually looking away, as if I were a complete stranger.

Walking back to my ward, I pulled up my emergency contacts. Under Primary, it read: Nathan. Under Secondary: Gwen. Without a moment's hesitation, I hit delete on his name. If he couldn't be reached when my throat was swelling shut, there was no point in letting him hold that spot any longer.

On the day I was discharged, I ran into Nathan right at the entrance of our apartment building. Sienna was trailing close behind him. The moment he spotted me, he instinctively stepped forward, shielding her slightly behind his shoulder. A protective reflex.

"Sienna and I just got back from our business trip," he explained quickly. "She got car sick, so I brought her over to rest for a bit. I didn't think you'd be home during the day. If it bothers you, I can take her home right now."

His mouth kept moving, but I felt entirely detached. Aside from our arguments, Nathan was normally a man of few words around me. Now, whether out of guilt or something else, he was rambling in full, defensive sentences. He had said more to me in thirty seconds than he usually did in an entire day.

Sienna kept her head low, her voice trembling like a kicked puppy. "Maybe I should go, Dr. Nathan. I don't think your wife likes"

"I don't mind," I interrupted.

A flicker of surprise crossed both their faces.

After all, I had always been perfectly warm and welcoming to the other interns in his department. Sienna was the sole exception. It wasn't an irrational hatred, either. I kept finding things she had "accidentally" left behind in Nathan's cara lipstick, a small pocket mirror, cute stickers. Every time I brought them up to him, Nathan would just scowl and mutter, "Impassive child's play."

I had agreed back then. Only a child who wanted attention would try to mark her territory. What I hadn't noticed at the time was the faint, amused curl at the corner of Nathan's lips whenever he dismissed her.

Until two months ago, that was.

Sienna had texted me a picture of herself and Nathan lying on the same cot. That was the day I finally snapped. I threw the phone at him, screaming and demanding answers like a woman possessed. He had calmly explained that it was just a cot in the lab. They had both been fully clothed; what could they possibly have done? Besides, there were other researchers in the lab. Surely I didn't think they'd sleep together with a third party in the room?

Sienna had called me right on cue, sounding utterly apologetic. "I'm so sorry! It was just a joke. There were actually four of us in the room that night."

Nathan had chimed in, "If it bothers you that much, I'll keep my distance from her."

Looking back, I realized how incredibly foolish I had been to buy into their absurd excuses.

Once inside the apartment, Sienna headed straight for the master bedroom. Nathan grabbed her arm, casting a cautious look in my direction.

I offered a thin smile. "It's fine. Go ahead and rest."

I wouldn't be using that bed anyway.

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Nathan's eyes. He seemed to search my face, desperate to find some sign of anger or jealousy. But my expression was a smooth, empty slate. Letting go of her arm, he muttered, "I'll make lunch."

I nodded and sat down on the sofa.

Moments later, Sienna's voice drifted out. "Dr. Nathan, do you still have those tampons I left in your bag last time?" She popped her head out and stuck her tongue out sheepishly at me. "Sorry, I hate carrying a purse, so I just slip them into Nathan's bag. I'm sensitive to most brands, and that's the only one that doesn't give me a rash."

Her eyes, however, sparkled with triumph.

Nathan reached into the leather messenger bag I had bought him, retrieved a tampon, and handed it to her. Then he turned to look at me, his mouth opening as if to offer an explanation.

I closed my eyes and leaned back, pretending to doze off. I felt his gaze lingering on my face for a long time before he finally walked into the kitchen.

Nathan made a spread of four dishesspicy pork with peppers, a cold spinach salad, stir-fried beef with celery, and a wild mushroom soup. Every single dish was heavily garnished with chopped scallions.

Sienna emerged from the bedroom wearing one of my silk robes, letting out a delighted squeal. "Oh, wow! All my favorites! I'm going to eat so much!"

I sat there, my silverware untouched.

Nathan frowned, a hint of his usual impatience creeping into his tone. "If you don't eat now, don't ask me to cook for you when you get hungry tonight."

My voice was flat, devoid of any anger as I stated a simple fact. "I'm allergic to green onions."

Nathan's hand froze, his fork hovering in mid-air. For once, his cold mask cracked.

"Right. I forgot," he muttered, sounding genuinely flustered. "I'll whip up something else for you."

"Don't worry about it." I grabbed my purse from the counter. "You two enjoy. I'm going to stay at Gwen's for a few days."

Before walking out, I looked at Sienna. "Make yourself at home."

Just as I was about to close the door behind me, Nathan's hand shot out to block it.

"Do you really have to be so petty with a kid?" he hissed under his breath. "I'm sending her home right after we eat."

I didn't answer. Instead, my eyes fell on his left hand.

"You're wearing a ring," I noted quietly.

In our four years of marriage, he had never worn his wedding band. He had always claimed it was unsafe and impractical for a surgeon.

Nathan quickly pulled his hand back, tucking his fingers out of sight. "Sienna insisted. She bought them as a joke." He swallowed hard. "It's not a couple's ring, it's just..."

"Just asking," I interrupted. "You don't owe me an explanation."

He bit his lip, studying my face before his tone softened. "Go rest at Gwen's then. I'll pick you up tomorrow after my shift."

I didn't reply. I just turned and walked down the stairs. It didn't matter anymore. After today, who slept in our bed, whose tampons he carried, or whose matching ring he wore would no longer be my concern.

On the cab ride over, we passed the jewelry boutique where we had bought our rings years ago. I asked the driver to pull over.

Tracing the gold band on my finger, a memory from seven years ago surfaced. A stubborn boy had insisted he hated rings, and an angry girl had stormed off. A few weeks later, that same boy had knelt before her with the exact diamond ring she had coveted.

"Will you be my only family?" he had whispered, his eyes shining. "In sickness and in health, until death do us part."

My vision cleared, blinking away the phantom memory. I pushed the glass doors open and walked up to the counter.

"Do you buy back estate jewelry?" I asked.

The next day, Gwen accompanied me back to the hospital for my follow-up appointment. My regular physician was away on a seminar, so I was squeezed into another specialist's schedule.

When I walked into the exam room, the older doctor looked at me in surprise. "Vivian?"

I blinked, and then recognition clicked. "Dr. Harrison!"

A rare smile broke across his otherwise stern face. "I remember you from your wedding with Nathan."

Dr. Harrison was Nathan's mentor and one of the country's leading immunologists. Nathan had promised years ago to bring me to his office for a thorough evaluation. But he had put it off, year after year, until the promise had faded into nothingness.

After a series of tests, Dr. Harrison reviewed my charts. "Your physical allergens haven't changed, Vivian. Which means this sudden flare-up is likely stress-induced. Have you been suffering from insomnia, severe anxiety, or depression lately?"

I froze.

A sudden, bitter wave of realization crashed over me. No wonder my health had been deteriorating over the past six months. It turned out my body was physically rejecting the misery of my marriage, even when my mind tried to play it down.

On the ride back, Gwen spent the entire time cursing Nathan's name. But I felt remarkably numb. Perhaps it was true what they saidwhen your physical health is failing, you lose the luxury of caring about heartbreak.

My phone buzzed in my lap.

Nathan: You went to see Dr. Harrison?

Vivian: Yes.

Nathan: Why didn't you tell me? I could have gone with you.

Vivian: It wasn't planned. Just a coincidence.

Nathan: He said there is still one test result pending. I'll pick you up tonight, and we can go together tomorrow.

My thumb brushed over the smooth envelope containing the divorce papers in my bag.

Vivian: Okay.

When I arrived at the apartment that evening, the place was spotless. He had clearly spent hours scrubbing it.

He blocked my path just as I was heading toward the guest room. "Are you still mad at me?"

I shook my head.

"Then why aren't you sleeping in our room?"

I looked at him, then let out a single, honest word. "It's dirty."

I meant it literally, but Nathan flinched as if I had slapped him.

"She's just a kid, Vivian," he snapped, his jaw tightening. "Be reasonable. Know when to stop."

Know when to stop.

It had been years since I last heard him use that phrase. Hearing it now dragged up memories I thought I had buried long ago.

I had fallen for him at first sight during our university's freshman orientation. He had been an ice king, cold and unapproachable. After several of my attempts to talk to him were met with silence, I began asking around. I learned he was an orphan, surviving solely on academic grants, part-time jobs, and the kindness of his professors. I convinced myself his cold exterior was just a shield. I believed that if I showered him with enough warmth, I could melt the ice.

I used to pick the best pieces of meat from my plate and drop them onto his. During his track meets, I would scream his name so loudly my voice drowned out the entire crowd. Over the holidays, when everyone else went home and he had nowhere to go, I stayed behind to keep him company.

Whenever my persistence wore him down, he would sigh and mutter those exact words: Know when to stop.

But I had ignored them.

"Come to my place for Thanksgiving! My mom's cooking is incredible!"

"Don't be sad. From now on, I'm your family!"

Then, during our sophomore year, a ceiling fan in our classroom came loose and plummeted toward my head. Amid the screams of our classmates, Nathan had thrown his body over mine. The heavy, muffled groan he let out as the metal blades struck his back was a sound I remembered for years. In the quiet years that followed, that memory had saved our relationship a thousand times over.

But as I looked at his hardened jawline now, I couldn't find a single trace of the boy who had once risked his life to shield me.

I gently pulled my arm out of his grasp and walked past him into the master bedroom.

I ripped back the duvet. Nothing.

I slid open the nightstand drawer. Nothing.

Finally, I knelt down and reached under the bed. My fingers brushed against silk. I pulled out a black lace bralette.

It wasn't mine.

Nathan's lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.

I let out a soft, mocking laugh and tossed the lace directly into his face.

"You're the one who needs to know when to stop, Nathan."

Without waiting for a reply, I walked back to the guest room and locked the door.

The next morning, Nathan took a late shift so he could drive me to the hospital. But the moment we arrived at the clinic, I saw Sienna sitting in the waiting area.