He Stole My Corneas Four Times For His First Love

When the fourth cornea match came through, my husband, the head of ophthalmology, expertly slid a voluntary waiver across the table.

His face was painted with guilt, but his tone left absolutely no room for negotiation.

Trexie, we can't use this set of corneas for you either.

Stella had acid thrown in her face by her ex. It ruined her vision completely. She relies on sleeping pills just to make it through the night. If she hears that your sight has been restored, it will drag up all her past trauma. She will be suicidal. I can't just stand by and watch her suffer.

"Don't worry. You can still make out blurry shapes with your left eye. Once Stella is fully recovered, we can always wait for another donor."

I didn't cry. I didn't scream and demand answers the way I had the first three times.

I just silently signed my name on the dotted line.

David had no idea. While he was busy crossing my name off the surgical schedule to prioritize his childhood sweetheart, I had already accepted an offer from the world's most advanced neural integration research center. I had agreed to be their Chief Scientist and primary test subject. I was leaving the country, and I was never coming back.

Finally, it was time to say goodbye to David.

Right after the pen left the paper, a sharp, stabbing pain pierced my left eye.

My vision rapidly blackened.

David's face, which I could barely make out a moment ago, dissolved into murky, shapeless blobs of color.

I braced both hands against the desk, entirely unprepared for the sudden shift.

David didn't notice a thing.

He was too busy eagerly shoving the signed waiver into his folder, terrified I might change my mind.

Just then, an emergency room nurse slammed the door open.

"Dr. David! Stella slit her wrists!"

"She lost a massive amount of blood! They are trying to resuscitate her right now!"

He didn't even look at me. He shoved past the nurse and sprinted down the hall.

The darkness in my left eye grew heavier. The agony drilled straight through my optic nerve and into my brain.

I fumbled blindly until my fingers found the call button on the desk.

A few minutes later, the door swung open again.

Heavy footsteps rushed right up to me.

I assumed it was the doctor on call. I opened my mouth to ask for help, but someone gripped my wrist in an iron hold.

A rough alcohol swab was slathered haphazardly over my vein.

"Trexie, the hospital blood bank is totally depleted. Stella needs a transfusion immediately."

It was David's voice.

"We have to draw from you. She doesn't have time to wait."

I couldn't see a single thing. I could only feel the icy prick of a large needle burying itself into my flesh.

"It hurts..."

I struggled, trying to pull my arm away.

"It is just a little blood. Stella is fighting for her life. What is your little bit of pain compared to that?"

David pinned my arm down with brutal force.

Right then, someone burst into the room.

It was Brooke, my attending physician and my absolute best friend.

She shoved David hard, snatching the oversized syringe out of his hand.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

"Stella has O-negative blood! The bank is full of it!"

"Your wife's optic nerve is on the verge of rapid necrosis. You want to draw her blood right now? Do you want her to go completely blind?!"

Brooke's voice was shaking with fury. She stepped between us, shielding me.

David hesitated for a fraction of a second, but his resolve hardened.

"Stop fearmongering, Brooke."

"It is just a little blood. How much worse could her eyes possibly get?"

"Stella is carrying two lives right now. I am not letting anything happen to her!"

Two lives?

But David didn't give me a single second to process that.

He shoved Brooke out of the way with terrifying force.

Then he grabbed my arm again.

This time, he grabbed an even larger gauge needle.

He jammed it brutally into my already bruised vein.

"Draw four hundred cc's and get it to the operating room immediately."

He barked the order with absolute, chilling apathy.

I could feel the blood rushing out of my body.

And along with it went the very last, fading sliver of light in my left eye.

I closed my eyes. A memory drifted to the surface.

My right eye had gone blind two years ago. A deranged family member of a patient had lunged at David with a knife.

I threw myself in front of him, taking the blow.

The heavy hilt of the knife had shattered my right eye.

From that day on, half my world had been pitch black.

Back then, David had held me in his arms, sobbing hysterically. He swore to the heavens he would spend the rest of his life making it up to me.

And now, he was personally ripping away my very last hope of ever seeing the light again.

"David." I stared blankly toward the sound of his breathing.

"If you take this blood today, we are done."

My voice was incredibly soft. Stripped of all emotion.

The pulling sensation in my vein paused.

But a second later, he let out a scoff.

"Are you really pulling this card again?"

"Every single time something happens to Stella, you threaten me with a divorce. Are you ever going to drop it?"

"You are practically a cripple who cannot even see where she is walking. Where exactly are you going to go without me?"

Warm, crimson blood flowed continuously through the plastic tubing.

Brooke scrambled up from the floor, reaching out to rip the needle from my arm.

David backhanded her away.

"Security! Get this crazy woman out of my sight!"

Guards rushed into the room and dragged Brooke backward.

"You are an absolute monster, David! You are going to rot for this!"

"Trexie lost an eye to save your pathetic life, and now you are destroying her other eye for your mistress!"

Brooke's screaming faded down the corridor.

David yanked the needle out.

He pressed a freezing alcohol cotton ball against my puncture wound, not even lingering for a full second.

He grabbed the blood bag and turned on his heel.

"David," I called out to him one last time.

"Did it ever cross your mind that if my eye is completely ruined, it might never be fixed?"

His footsteps paused at the door.

He threw his words over his shoulder like trash.

"Then it doesn't get fixed."

"If you go totally blind, I will just provide for you for the rest of your life. But nothing is going to happen to Stella."

The door slammed shut.

I listened to the frantic sound of his dress shoes sprinting down the hallway.

I raised a trembling hand and touched my left eye.

There was nothing but a hollow, empty void.

The version of Trexie who had once thrown her life on the line for him died right there on that vinyl chair.

I lay alone in the freezing phlebotomy room.

My left eye sank into absolute, inescapable darkness.

I was entirely blind.

Tears were a luxury I could no longer afford.

I pulled out my phone and let muscle memory guide my thumb to the voice assistant.

"Call Brooke."

The line connected almost instantly. I could hear Brooke's muffled, suppressed sobbing.

"Trexie... your eyes..."

"Brooke, process my discharge papers."

"I want to go home."

Tapping my cane against the pavement, I blindly navigated my way back to the house I used to call home.

The moment I pushed the front door open, I heard the blaring noise of a daytime soap opera.

And the rhythmic cracking of sunflower seeds.

I accidentally bumped into the hallway shoe cabinet.

An expensive ceramic vase sitting on the edge tipped over and shattered into a thousand pieces on the hardwood.

The deafening crash echoed through the living room.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

My mother-in-law, Brenda, tossed her seed shells onto the floor and stomped over in her slippers.

"You blind, useless jinx!"

"Can you not see a massive vase right in front of your face?"

"David paid thousands of dollars for that antique. You couldn't afford to replace it if you sold your own organs!"

I couldn't see her face, but I could feel the spray of her spit hitting my cheek.

I ignored her, carefully stepping around the sharp shards, and headed for the stairs.

The front door opened again.

It was David's voice.

"Mom, I brought Stella home."

I heard the sound of two sets of feet. One of them stepped with an exaggerated, delicate lightness.

"Oh my gosh!"

Stella suddenly shrieked, practically throwing herself into David's arms.

"Why is the floor covered in broken glass?"

"That is so scary. David, I am frightened."

David immediately wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"It is okay. I've got you."

Seeing this, Brenda marched straight up to me.

She raised her hand and slapped me across the face with everything she had.

My head snapped to the side. A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears.

"You vicious witch!"

"You intentionally broke that vase so Stella would trip on it, didn't you?"

"Stella is pregnant! If anything happens to that baby, I will make you pay with your life!"

I froze.

Pregnant?

Stella was pregnant.

So that was what David meant in the hospital when he said two lives.

Judging by Brenda's fiercely protective reaction, the baby undoubtedly belonged to David.

I thought my heart was entirely dead. I thought it couldn't hurt anymore.

But in that moment, all I felt was overwhelming, suffocating nausea.

Touching my burning cheek, I turned my sightless eyes toward David.

"Do you have anything you want to explain?"

David stiffened. His voice was laced with nervous tension.

"Trexie, do not overthink this."

"Stella is only staying temporarily. Her ex-boyfriend abandoned her."

"I could not let her live out there all alone. It is not safe. So I brought her here."

"She has had a hard time. Show a little compassion for a pregnant woman."

He didn't say a single word about who the father was. Every single syllable was a desperate defense of Stella.

"Starting tomorrow, you need to move down to the guest room on the lower level. Stella needs the master bedroom."

A hollow laugh slipped past my lips.

He wanted his blind wife to clear out of her own bedroom so his mistress could nest.

And I was supposed to be compassionate about it.

Stella buried her face in David's chest, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

"Trexie, please do not be mad at David."

"This is all my fault."

"If you really cannot stand the sight of me, I will just leave. I will take my baby and throw myself off a bridge."

She made a theatrical pivot toward the door.

David violently yanked her back.

"Where do you think you are going?! From today on, this is your home."

He turned to me, his voice taking on a thick, patronizing layer of guilt.

"Trexie. Stella is blind, and she is expecting. I know you are not a cruel person."

Blind?

I inhaled sharply. The heavy, suffocating scent of a custom designer perfume rolled off Stella's skin.

What kind of blind woman flawlessly applied full makeup and spritzed high-end fragrance every single day?

"David, I want a divorce."

Silence hung heavy in the air.

Then, a deep, frustrated growl.

"Have you entirely lost your mind?"

"Stella is just staying for a little while. Are you really going to hold a divorce over my head over this? You are completely blind. If you leave me, where are you going to go? Are you going to beg for change under a highway overpass?"

He was absolutely convinced I was playing hard to get.

"Fine. You want to throw a tantrum?"

I heard him pull out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, freezing every single credit card attached to his accounts.

"Go down to the basement storage room and think about how you are acting."

"When you finally accept reality, you can come back upstairs!"

I didn't argue.

The phone in my pocket vibrated with a distinct pattern.

It was a priority email notification.

I knew exactly what it was. A message from the Neural Integration Institute.

Their private jet would touch down in exactly three days.

I turned around, sweeping my cane, and began the slow descent down the stairs to the basement.

There was no heating down there.

Just piles of forgotten boxes and a moldy cot.

But it was exactly what I wanted.

I needed absolute silence to organize my core experimental data.

The basement was damp and freezing.

I huddled in the corner, listening to the automated voice assistant read my email aloud.

The flight path clearance had been fully approved.

Suddenly, the heavy basement door swung open.

The sharp click of stiletto heels echoed aggressively against the concrete floor.

What kind of blind woman wears stilettos down a flight of concrete stairs?

Stella stopped right in front of me.

I heard the metallic screech of my desk drawer being yanked open.

That drawer contained my exclusive, handwritten medical manuscripts. A decade of irreplaceable research.

"Trexie, are you really hiding down here playing the misunderstood martyr?"

Her voice was dripping with arrogance.

"What is all this scrap paper? Looks pretty old. Maybe I should just toss it in the fireplace."

I shot up from the cot.

Using purely spatial memory, my hand shot forward and locked around her wrist like a vice.

I ripped the stack of manuscripts out of her grasp.

"What are you doing?! You are hurting me!"

Stella shrieked.

I let out a cold, sharp laugh.

"Stella, is playing blind fun?"

"Your corneas are perfectly intact. You could clearly see the lock on my desk drawer."

"You bribed a doctor to forge a blindness diagnosis, and you are playing David like an absolute fool."

"What is your endgame?"

Caught red-handed, Stella panicked for a split second.

But her shock quickly morphed into a vicious, gloating cackle.

"So what if I am?"

"David eats it right out of the palm of my hand."

"Who do you think he is going to believe? Me, or a washed-up, sightless housewife?"

She leaned in close, her breath ghosting against my ear.

"Trexie, tell me something. If I accidentally killed your precious little guide dog... do you think David would even blame me?"

My golden retriever, Max, was my only lifeline in the dark.

Fury surged through my veins. I raised both hands and shoved her away.

"Get out!"

She used the momentum to stagger backward, throwing herself violently onto the hard concrete.

Then, she let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"Ahhh! My baby!"

"Help! David, help me! Trexie is trying to kill our baby!"

The thunderous sound of heavy footsteps hammered against the ceiling.

David sprinted down the stairs.

He shoved me aside with brutal force and dropped to his knees beside Stella.

I lost my balance and crashed onto the dust-covered floor.

"Trexie! How could you be so utterly venomous?!"

David scooped Stella into his arms, glaring at me with absolute hatred.

"What the hell happened to you? When did you become this monster?"

Stella buried her face in his neck, putting on a flawless performance of a frail, dying victim.

"David, I am okay. My stomach just hurts a little..."

"Trexie is just upset that I moved in. She lost her temper. Please do not be mad at her."

She paused, letting the silence hang before seamlessly pivoting her strategy.

"Oh, David... isn't the new Chief Director from that overseas Neural Institute arriving tomorrow?"

"I heard they are desperately looking for live human pain-response data."

"Trexie is fully blind now. If you put her in the high-voltage neural stimulation chamber and record her sensory feedback..."

"You would get the perfect data set. Trexie used to love researching this kind of stuff. I am sure she would be happy to contribute."

I gasped, the air turning to ice in my lungs.

The high-voltage stimulation chamber.

Surging extreme electrical currents straight through the cerebral cortex. The pain was beyond human comprehension.

I truly believed that David, as an established medical professional, possessed at least a shred of baseline morality.

But after a brief moment of hesitation, he actually agreed.

He walked over, his hand brushing against my cheek for the first time in months. His tone was sickeningly gentle.

"This data could secure me the regional directorship for their Institute. If I get that, I will be promoted to Hospital President!"

"Trexie, just endure it for a little bit."

"You just need to provide some sensory data. It is not lethal."

"Once we impress the Director and secure a cure for Stella, you can finally get your cornea transplant. Isn't that what you want?"

I lay on the filthy floor, listening to the absolute insanity spilling from the mouth of the man I used to share a bed with.

For a mistress. For a shiny new title.

He was willingly sending his legally wedded wife into an electric torture chamber.

"I am not going." I forced the words through gritted teeth.

"Be a good girl. Once this is all over, I will take you to the Bahamas. You can rest on the beach while you recover."

David waved his hand. Two massive, broad-shouldered orderlies marched into the basement.

The suffocating stench of industrial bleach flooded my senses.

I was strapped tightly to a freezing stainless-steel examination table.

David stood safely behind the reinforced observation glass.

"Trexie, just hold on. It will be over before you know it."

His voice echoed mechanically through the intercom speaker.

"Initialize sequence."

Along with the deafening hum of heavy machinery, the first wave of pure electricity ripped straight through my brain.

A guttural, agonizing scream tore out of my throat.

My body convulsed violently against the thick leather restraints, tearing the skin off my wrists.

I bit completely through my bottom lip, my mouth flooding with the hot, metallic taste of blood.

I was trapped in a living hell, begging for death, while they stood safely on the other side, documenting cold, clinical numbers.

The torment lasted until dawn.

My pain receptors were entirely fried. Even drawing a breath felt like swallowing crushed glass.

Every single lingering trace of love I had for David died a violent death inside that chamber.

The heavy airlock hissed open.

Stella walked in, looking down at me with unvarnished disgust.

"Stop playing dead. We got the data. Get up."

David had already left for the summit at the luxury hotel.

Stella didn't even bother tossing a jacket over my torn clothes. She simply dragged me out to the car.

Today, the entire medical community was holding its breath, waiting for the newly appointed Chief Director to make an appearance.

When David saw my horrific state, a fleeting shadow of long-forgotten pity crossed his eyes.

He took a step forward to check on me, but an older, distinguished gentleman approached the lobby, instantly hijacking David's attention.

"Dr. Harrison! It is an honor."

David rushed forward, bowing his head in extreme deference.

"I am Dr. David. I prepared these exclusive, live-subject neurological data logs specifically for your review."

Dr. Harrison furrowed his brow, taking the thick binder and flipping through the first few pages.

Then, his gaze drifted upward and landed directly on me.

The moment he recognized my face, the heavy binder slipped from his hands and crashed onto the marble floor.

Dr. Harrison shoved David aside, practically sprinting over to me.

He caught my collapsing body, his voice shaking with absolute reverence and horror.

"Chief! What on earth happened to you?!"