A Wall Between Us

From the moment Denis secretly gave my study abroad slot to Giselle, an invisible wall rose between us, one that could never be torn down.

During the Aspen blizzard, when I went to assist the rescue team, I saw him walking past me with Giselle cradled in his arms. Just an hour before, he had texted me saying he was working late. I stared into his eyes with absolute calmness before turning back to save lives.

The media reported on their reignited flame. I did not care, and I did not ask. But when I found out I was pregnant, I quietly walked into a clinic and got an abortion.

When he later found the medical reports, his face lit up with the hope of a child. I looked at him and said, "Denis, I had an abortion."

He slammed on the brakes, his eyes turning instantly red.

I had just learned that the hospital's prestigious fellowship program in California had been handed to Giselle. She was a Stanford Medical graduate, so on paper, she held every advantage over me. At the Monday staff meeting, the Chief of Medicine announced the decision. Sitting across from me, Giselle locked eyes with mine, her lips curving into a faint, triumphant smile. I looked away, focus returning to my notepad.

After the meeting, I gathered my files to deliver them to the chief's office. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear our department head asking a question.

"Wasn't the decision still pending? I really don't think Vivian is any less qualified than Giselle."

"It is a pity," the Chief sighed. "The residency is in California, and since Giselle is a Stanford alumnus, she has the cultural and language advantage. The host hospital preferred her." The Chief paused, lowering his voice. "Besides, Apex Medical specifically requested her."

My heart sank. The department head stopped asking, and I understood. I turned around, clutching my files, and walked away.

In the restroom, I overheard two nurses whispering.

"This program is funded by Apex Medical Group. The hospital pretends we have a say, but the final word always belonged to their CEO, Denis."

"Well, Apex did just donate millions of dollars in new cardiac monitors to our department."

"Exactly. We owe that to Giselle. If it weren't for her, we would still be using those ancient machines."

"Really? Why is that?"

"Don't you know? Dr. Giselle is Denis's ex girlfriend. They were college sweethearts. My boyfriend was Denis's college roommate, and he told me all about it. The board was actually leaning toward Vivian, but Apex dropped her name, so the hospital just went with the flow. It is a win win for everyone except Vivian."

The other nurse sighed. "Must be nice to have that kind of leverage. I wish I had a powerful backer. I would quit this job in a heartbeat."

I could have accepted losing to Giselle fairly. I knew she had a stellar resume. But I could not accept Denis pulling the strings behind my back. To qualify for this fellowship, I had slept less than six hours a night for six months. I had stayed up to polish research proposals, design presentations, and compile surgical logs. All of that effort was crushed by a casual word from my own husband. My chest tightened, a wave of bitter resentment washing over me.

That evening, Denis's tall figure appeared in the entryway. Driven by the raw hurt, I asked him directly before he could even take off his coat.

"Denis, did you give my fellowship slot to Giselle?"

He paused, his handsome face showing no emotion at all. "Yes," he answered simply.

The single word felt like a physical blow.

"Can you tell me why?" I asked, my voice trembling. I thought of what the nurses had said, about her being his first love. "Is it because she is your ex?"

He stared at me, his gaze deep and heavy. "She is better suited for the role."

He said it so calmly, so rationally. But my world was spinning. He had watched me pull all nighters to write those proposals. The choice had been his from the very beginning. My six months of grueling work had been nothing but a farce.

In the hospital, I had never once used my status as Denis's wife to seek favors. I did not expect him to pull strings for me. But I never imagined he would actively support his ex over me.

Tears threatened to spill over. "Okay, I understand."

Denis looked down at me, his voice slow and even. "Vivian. In every professional metric, she is simply the stronger candidate."

I could not stand his cold, detached logic.

"But she is your ex, and I am your wife!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "You had the power to choose, and you decided she was better from day one. You watched me ruin my health for this. Did you find it amusing? Was my effort just a joke to you?"

Denis's eyes turned icy. "Vivian. Don't be a sore loser."

The words made me flinch. A sore loser. The tears finally spilled over, hot and bitter against my cheeks.

Soon, everyone in the hospital knew who was backing Giselle. Administrators and colleagues alike began to fawn over her. Giselle remained gracefully aloof, neither accepting nor rejecting the special treatment, solidifying her image as a detached, perfect goddess.

"Dr. Giselle is living a real life movie," a nurse giggled in the breakroom. "She is gorgeous, Ivy League educated, and her ex is a billionaire. It is like a romance novel. Imagine being her child. Life would be on easy mode."

"When are she and Denis getting back together? I want to be reborn as their kid."

I forced a polite smile, swallowing the lump in my throat, and walked past them.

I began to reevaluate my marriage. It was obvious that he did not love me, not the way he cared for Giselle. Once I accepted this truth, the desire to be near him vanished.

One evening, I found Denis sitting at the dining table. A gold embossed invitation sat on the corner of the polished wood. He looked from the card to me.

"My friend is getting married this weekend," he said. "Spouses are invited. Do you want to go?"

We had rarely mingled with each other's social circles. This was the first time he had ever invited me to a public event as his wife. Before all this, I would have been thrilled. Now, I just felt a dull ache.

"No, thank you," I said.

He looked slightly surprised, then nodded. "Okay."

I did not tell him that I also had a friend's wedding that weekend. I saw no point in explaining.

As fate would have it, we ended up at the exact same wedding, seated at the very same table. When I arrived, Giselle was already seated next to Denis. We all froze for a second. Giselle was a bridesmaid, and Denis was a groomsman. He wore a tailored black tuxedo, and she wore an elegant white silk gown. They looked perfect together. I wanted to change tables, but my friend, the bride, pushed me back into the seat.

"Stay here," Fiona whispered with a wink. "I put all the handsome guys at this table."

The guests at our table seemed to know Denis and Giselle, though not closely. They chatted easily, and soon someone joked, "Hey Denis, now that Marcus is married, when are you going to tie the knot with Giselle again?"

Denis glanced at the guest, his expression neutral. "Don't talk nonsense."

Shortly after, the groom called them away for photos. The ceremony was held in the outdoor gardens. The couple looked beautiful, and so did the bridal party. Standing side by side, Denis and Giselle looked like they belonged together. I had once dreamed of a wedding like this with Denis. But we never had one. We had simply signed the papers and had a quiet dinner with our parents. Watching them now, a hollow emptiness opened in my chest.

After the ceremony, we returned to the reception hall. Seated at the table of strangers, I felt entirely out of place. Their shared memories only highlighted how little I belonged in Denis's world. Fiona, the bride, had been a senior colleague of mine during residency. She did not know I was married to Denis. She walked over, raising her glass to me.

"Vivian, I hand picked the bachelors at this table," she whispered, loud enough for others to hear. "They are all successful, sweet guys. Let me know if any of them catch your eye."

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Denis looked at me, his dark eyes unreadable. He did not mention that we were married, and neither did I. Since we were bound to get a divorce eventually, there was no need to make our messy private life public.

When the reception ended, I got up to leave. Fiona walked me to the exit, and Denis fell into step beside me.

"Wait for me," he murmured, leaning closer. "I'll drive you home."

I took a step back, politely keeping my distance. Everyone here knew his history with Giselle. Some even thought they were still together. I did not want to cause a scene.

"Vivian," a gentle voice called out. A young man, looking like a recent graduate, approached us. "I'm Owen, Fiona's cousin. Could I get your number? If that is okay with you."

I smiled back. "Of course." We swapped contact info.

Deniss eyes darkened. Without warning, he reached out and locked his fingers with mine, his grip tight and commanding. It felt like holding a hot coal. I immediately yanked my hand back, brushing my arm to cover the gesture. "These summer bugs are awful, I must have gotten a bite."

"Vivian, do you need a ride?" Owen offered. "Fiona mentioned you had a drink. I'm sober, so I can drive."

I was about to accept, as cabs were hard to find in this district, when Denis stepped in, his cold aura instantly filling the space between us. "Vivian, are we heading home together?" he asked, his tone perfectly measured.

Owen smiled, looking back and forth between us. "Oh, do you two know each other?"

I answered quickly, before Denis could speak. "Yes, we work at the same hospital. Dr. Giselle is our colleague too."

Owen nodded. "Ah, that makes sense." He turned to Denis. "By the way, Denis, I saw someone asking Giselle for her number earlier. You might want to move fast before someone else steals her away."

Denis let out a dry laugh. "An exchange of numbers doesn't mean much."

He reached for my hand again, but I smoothly stepped behind Owen. "Owen, I would appreciate that ride."

Owen smiled. "Let's go."

Deniss face turned incredibly dark.

When I got back to our apartment, Denis was already there. He stood in the living room, his brow arched. "Are you trying to hide our relationship?" he demanded.

The bluntness of his question caught me off guard. "You are overthinking things," I replied quietly.

He stared at me, his eyes clouded with frustration.

After that night, I actively kept my distance. I could no longer pretend everything was fine. Knowing he had sacrificed my hard work for Giselles career made me realize how foolish I had been. If our marriage was a sinking ship, I needed to make sure my own career survived. I threw myself into my work, leaving early and returning late. I spent almost all my time at the hospital, completely avoiding him.

He texted me: Waiting for you in the parking garage.

I replied: In surgery. Don't wait.

Though we lived under the same roof, we only saw each other three times that month.

Winter arrived early in Chicago. A massive blizzard hit the neighboring town of Aspen, causing a severe mountain emergency with collapsed structures and multiple casualties. Our hospital assembled a disaster relief team, and I volunteered immediately.

On our way to Aspen, the other doctors were calling their families. Denis had been texting me frequently lately, checking in. An hour before we lost signal, he sent a text: Working late tonight at the office.

When we reached the valley, the rescue zone was a chaotic mess. The power was out, and searchlights swept over the snow. I was carrying my medical pack through the ruins of a resort when I saw a tall, familiar figure in the distance. He was carrying a woman wrapped in a thick wool coat. His face was pale with worry.

As he got closer, our eyes met. We both froze. I stared at Denis. His breath caught, his grip on Giselle tightening. "Vivian, it is not what you think," he rasped, his voice strained.

I kept my face completely blank. "Move aside, please. I have patients to treat."

I bypassed him and ran toward the collapsed lobby. Our team worked straight through the night. By the time the last survivor was pulled from the wreckage, the sun was rising over the snowy peaks. We were exhausted, our hands raw from the cold.

During our afternoon break, the staff sat around a small heater, whispering.

"Dr. Giselle injured her leg. There was a lot of blood."

"Denis carried her out of the ruins himself. She was barely dressed."

The rumors were filled with suggestive comments about their late night reunion at the resort. Listening to them, I felt a strange sense of detachment. The anger and jealousy were gone, replaced by a cold, heavy finality. Seeing him carry Giselle through the snow had broken the last string holding us together. I wanted a divorce, and this time, nothing would change my mind.

I walked out of the tent to get some fresh air. Denis was standing by the rescue vehicles, his tall figure silhouetted against the white snow.

"Vivian," he said, his voice raw.

I nodded politely. "We can talk when we return to Chicago. I still have patients to monitor."

"Don't misunderstand," he repeated, his eyes pleading.

I offered him a small, polite smile. "I don't."

I knew exactly who he was, and who he cared about.