He Broke Every Rule for Her, But Not for My Dying Mother

1: 1

Burton James had a severe compulsion for order.

As a surgeon, he'd set an iron rule.

Every operation ran strictly by the schedule, and no one could make him bend it.

The day my mother was dying, I begged him to come to the hospital just half an hour early.

He refused, his voice flat and cold.

"The surgery's set for three. One minute early wrecks the whole procedure."

Yet the moment he turned around, Zara Simmons said her chest felt off, and he threw out his precious schedule to go sit with her.

This was the third time.

The first time, my mother had a post-op infection. He said it wasn't on the schedule, then went to sit with Zara through her IV drip.

The second time, my mother went into sudden heart failure. He said it wasn't time yet, then went to celebrate Zara's birthday.

This time, my mother lay in the emergency room with a blood pressure too low to read.

I called him, crying.

It took nine calls before he finally picked up.

"The surgery time hasn't come yet. Call all you want, it won't change anything."

"Every patient follows the order. I'm not making an exception just because she's my mother-in-law."

The line went dead.

Half an hour later, my mother's heart monitor flattened into a single line.

The doctors said if the lead surgeon had arrived twenty minutes sooner, she might have had a chance.

I signed the death confirmation alone and drew the white sheet up over her.

That was when my phone lit up.

A message from Burton:

"Get Mom ready. I'll operate at three, on time."

I looked at the screen and calmly slid the wedding ring off my finger.

Burton, the person waiting for you to save her life will never make it to three now.

...

I dropped that wedding ring into the medical waste bin.

The staff wheeled my mother's body into the cold storage.

The digital clock on the wall clicked to 3:20 p.m., and the corridor went dead silent.

A dull, dragging pain came in waves through my lower belly, where an eight-week life was growing.

I'd meant to wait until my mother came safely through surgery, then tell Burton I was pregnant.

Now I didn't want him to know at all.

My phone rang. Burton.

The second I answered, he asked, anger held down under his voice.

"Iris Cooley, where did you take Mom?"

"The surgery slot's here and you moved her without permission. Do you have any idea how much this throws off the whole department's schedule?"

I stared at the sealed doors of the cold storage, and even explaining suddenly felt pointless.

"You don't need to operate anymore."

Then I hung up.

The dragging pain in my belly nearly took my legs out from under me.

Bracing myself against the wall, I made my way step by step to the billing window on the first floor.

I finished the paperwork for holding my mother's body, and the moment I turned around, I walked straight into Burton in his white coat.

Zara leaned weakly against his side, draped in his jacket.

Burton saw me and frowned.

"Why did you hang up on me?"

"I came on schedule. Stop throwing a fit at me over Mom's surgery."

Zara tugged at his sleeve.

"Burton, don't blame Iris."

"She's just so worried about her mother, she thought this would make you take it seriously."

"After all, it was only my chest bothering me, and you came to me first. Of course that stung her."

Burton's brow drew tight.

"Zara's readings were off, so of course I came to her first. Once your mother was in the emergency room, the on-call doctor would handle it. There's no need to drag me into every single thing."

"Don't think that being my wife means everyone has to clear the way for you."

Right then, Burton's mother walked over carrying a bag of imported fruit.

"Iris, how can you be so unreasonable?"

"Burton works himself to the bone in surgery every day, and you badger him with your mother's illness on top of it!"

"Zara's a frail girl. What's wrong with Burton looking after her a little? Do you really have to hide your mother away just to make a scene?"

I looked at the three of them and felt only how absurd it was.

My mother wasn't even cold, and they were sure I was throwing a jealous tantrum.

I looked at Burton and said it word by word.

"I'll say it one more time. You don't need to operate."

"Because my mother is dead. Half an hour ago. They couldn't save her."

Burton's brow twitched, then went cold again.

"Iris Cooley, is this fun for you, using something like that to force me to back down?"

"I read her chart. Half an hour later wouldn't have changed a thing. You hid her away and made up a lie like this. It only makes me more disgusted."

He pulled his gaze away, indifferent.

"Since you insist on giving up the slot, I'm taking back the VIP recovery room and the special-medication allocation and giving them to someone who actually needs them."

"You don't follow the process, you pay the price."

Burton's mother let out a cold laugh at once.

"That's how it should be. An old woman with one foot in the grave, taking up a room that nice is a waste of resources."

Burton frowned and cut her off. "Mom, that's enough."

But he never took back the decision he'd just made.

I pressed save on the recording and kept every word they'd just said.

"Suit yourself."

I turned and walked out of the hospital.

2: 2

The next day, a rare downpour hit the city.

I swallowed two of the pills meant to hold the pregnancy, took an umbrella, and went to the hospital to close out my mother's account for the last time.

I had barely stepped into the lobby when a post from Zara popped up on my phone.

In the photo she was sitting in a warmly decorated VIP recovery room, an expensive tray of nutritious meals on the table beside her.

The caption read: He says rules are dead but people are alive. Thank you, someone, for breaking every last line for me.

I stared at the screen until my eyes stung.

That room was the one Burton had promised to keep for my mother's post-op recovery.

He'd said the waitlist ran a full year and no one was allowed to cut ahead.

Yet less than a day after my mother died, Zara had moved right in.

So it wasn't that the rules couldn't be broken. It was just that my mother wasn't worth breaking them for.

I went to the window and handed over the death certificate and the insurance card.

After checking them, the clerk told me there was still a batch of imported post-op medication under my mother's name that needed my signature to be returned.

I had just taken the confirmation form when Burton's voice came from behind me.

"It can't be returned."

He walked up with Zara at his side and pulled the form straight out of my hand.

"Zara's levels are abnormal, and this medication is exactly what she needs. Since Mom has already given up on treatment, the resources should go to someone who needs them more."

He held the pen out to me.

"Sign. I'll handle the rest for you."

Looking at how entitled he seemed, I suddenly laughed.

"Burton, this is my mother's life-saving medication."

"She missed her slot on her own. Naturally the medication gets reassigned."

Burton frowned, his tone impatient.

"Don't turn public resources into a tool for your tantrum."

"She didn't miss her slot. She didn't live long enough to reach it."

Burton's face went cold in an instant.

"How long are you going to keep telling lies like this?"

Zara glanced at the insurance card in my hand and said softly,

"Burton, let it go. It was Auntie's, after all. It's normal that Iris can't bear to part with it. I can hold out a little longer."

Burton immediately clamped his hand around my wrist and forced the pen into my grip.

"Zara can't wait. Sign, now."

A sharp, dragging pain tore through my lower belly.

My face went white, my hand went instinctively to my stomach, and the pen slipped and fell to the floor.

Burton glanced down but didn't let go.

"Faking sick again to stall for time?"

He snatched up the confirmation form and said coldly to the clerk at the window,

"I'm the patient's son-in-law, and I was her attending physician. If she won't sign, I will."

The clerk looked uneasy.

"Dr. James, this isn't allowed."

"Special circumstances, special handling. If there's a problem, I'll take responsibility."

Hearing that, I was struck by how absurd it all was.

When my mother's life hung by a thread, he'd said one minute early would break the process.

Now, for Zara's sake, he was ready to skip right over the signature of the dead woman's own family.

I yanked the insurance card back.

"This card is already filed for cancellation. No one gets to touch a cent inside it."

Burton's face darkened at once.

"You're so bent on spiting me that you'd cancel Mom's insurance account too?"

He stared at me, his voice growing more impatient.

"Which hospital did you move her to?"

I didn't answer. I turned and walked out into the downpour.

Burton chased me to the door and ordered, his voice low,

"Iris, come back. I'll take you to get checked."

But then Zara suddenly clutched her chest and crumpled softly into his arms.

His steps stopped at once.

Behind me his voice quickly rose, frantic, calling for a nurse.

I didn't look back.

Cold rain ran down the hem of my skirt, and the pain in my belly grew heavier and heavier.

Alone, I took a cab to the nearest maternity hospital.

3: 3

The doctor finished reading the ultrasound and his face turned grim.

"The heartbeat is already very unstable. You should be admitted for observation."

I nodded, but I declined.

Tomorrow was my mother's cremation, and I had to go home first, to fetch the silk embroidered gown she had loved most in life.

She had prepared it for herself, saying she'd lived a dignified life and wanted to leave clean and proper.

When I dragged my numb legs to the door and pushed it open, the sight in front of me froze me where I stood.

The living room, once spotless, where even the couch cushions had to be lined up with a ruler, was now hung with colored balloons.

A few of the young doctors from Burton's department were standing on the wool carpet in shoes caked with mud, eating, drinking, and laughing.

And Burton, the man with his severe compulsion for cleanliness, who never let anyone break a single one of his household rules, was setting out desserts on the table with his own hands, letting all of it happen.

I looked at him.

"What are you doing?"

One of the young doctors explained with a smile.

"Zara's been down these past few days, so Dr. James called everyone over to cheer her up."

Burton gave me a flat glance.

"I'm just letting her relax. There's no need for you to make a scene."

I looked at the mess across the floor and felt the irony of it.

When my mother's life hung by a thread, he wouldn't move up her treatment by even half an hour.

Zara was just in a bad mood, and he could throw out every one of his own rules and fill the house with people to cheer her up.

I didn't ask anything more. I went straight to the guest room where my mother had been staying.

The moment I pushed the door open, my blood shot straight to the top of my head.

Zara was standing in front of the full-length mirror, holding my mother's silk gown up against herself.

There were scissors in her hand, and two of the knotted buttons at the collar had already been cut off.

Hearing the door, she turned to look at me without a trace of guilt on her face.

"Iris, you're back just in time. The collar on this gown is so dated. I was just about to take it apart and redo it."

"Burton said I could pick whatever I wanted from in here."

Whatever reason I had left snapped clean in that moment.

"Take it off!"

I rushed at her, snatched for the scissors in her hand, and yanked her away from the mirror.

Zara shrieked and fell, and the scissors sliced a long tear down the gown.

Burton came at the sound, his face going dark.

"Iris, what are you throwing a fit about now?"

"You told her she could touch my mother's things?"

He put his arm out to shield Zara, his voice full of impatience.

"It's just a dress. Zara likes it, so let her have it."

I reached out to grab it back, but Burton clamped down on my wrist and shoved me hard.

"Hurting someone over something this small. Is it really worth it?"

I stumbled into the corner of the solid wood bed frame, and pain tore through my lower back in an instant.

Burton reached out on reflex, but Zara clutched her chest and fell crying against him.

"Burton, I can't breathe"

He drew back the hand he'd stretched toward me and bent down to pick her up.

"The dress is ruined. I'll buy you ten of them."

"But if anything happens to Zara, you'll answer for it."

The door slammed shut.

Warm blood came pouring down the side of my leg, quickly staining the wood floor red.

I held the ruined dress tight against me.

Then I dug out my phone and dialed Lawyer Weiss.

"Lawyer Weiss, the divorce and the medical liability claim. Start them both."

"I'll send you the evidence right away."

After hanging up, I dialed emergency services.

4: 4

The ER corridor was loud with voices. I lay on the gurney, blood dripping off the edge of it, dragging a raw red streak across the white tile.

The nurse was about to wheel me into the trauma room when Burton hurried in with Zara on his arm.

At the sight of me covered in blood, his steps stalled, and something like shock crossed his eyes.

But Zara spoke first.

"Iris, why did you come chasing after us too?"

"She was perfectly fine at home a moment ago. How does she lose this much blood the second she gets to the hospital? She isn't still blaming you for bringing me in for tests first, is she? Blowing this up on purpose?"

Whatever hesitation had flickered in Burton's eyes vanished at once.

He looked down at me, his expression frighteningly cold.

"Iris, do you have any idea this is the emergency room?"

"You'll pull a stunt like this, hurting yourself just to fight Zara for the front of the line. Aren't you afraid of holding up someone who actually needs saving?"

I was shaking all over from the pain, without even the strength to explain.

The nurse couldn't hold back.

"The patient is losing a lot of blood, and her pressure is dropping. She has to be treated right now."

The head of the ER recognized Burton and came over quickly.

But Burton planted himself in front of the gurney and said, low and hard,

"She only hit her lower back, and she's fully conscious. Follow protocol and run the triage assessment first."

"Zara has a record of abnormal cardiac enzymes. Give her the cardiac monitor first."

The head physician glanced at the blood spreading wider beneath me, and his face tightened.

"Dr. James, this patient's condition is clearly more urgent."

"Whether it's urgent is decided by test results, not by who makes the bigger scene."

Burton's brow drew tight, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Just because she's my wife doesn't mean she gets to jump the normal process."

Leaning against his side, Zara added softly,

"Iris has never liked me. If I tie up the machine, she'll just accuse Burton of playing favorites again."

Burton's face went colder still, and he steered her straight to the exam bed.

"We go by the rules. No one has any right to make a scene."

I curled up against the pain and opened my mouth, but I didn't have the strength to speak.

So in his eyes, even bleeding was just another play for his attention.

At that moment, the blood-pressure monitor let out a shrill alarm.

"Patient's pressure keeps dropping. Get her in now!"

The on-call doctor shoved Burton away from the gurney and rushed me into the trauma room.

The OB doctor hurried over with the results in hand.

"Pregnant patient, massive hemorrhage. No fetal heartbeat. We have to do a D&C to stop the bleeding immediately, or the mother is in danger too!"

The nurse held out the surgical consent form.

"Ms. Cooley, you're conscious, so you can sign for yourself. Is there family we should notify?"

White-faced, I pulled up a smile worse than crying.

"No need."

"I don't have any family."

As the pen dragged across the paper, a part of my own body was carved out of me for good.

At the same time, the funeral home still couldn't reach me, so they had no choice but to call the backup number on file.

Burton was sitting outside the private ward, waiting on Zara's results.

The call connected, and the staff member asked in a flat, businesslike tone,

"Hello, Mr. James. The cold-storage period for your mother-in-law's body expires tonight. When will the family come in to handle the cremation?"

Burton shot to his feet, his face darkening fast.

"Iris put you up to this call?"

"Tell her a lie like that only makes me despise her more."

The staff member paused, caught off guard.

"Mr. James, this is the city funeral home"

"Enough."

Burton hung up on the spot and blocked the number.

After the D&C, I lay on the cold hospital bed, staring at the ceiling without moving.

The nurse wiped the blood off my body, her eyes reddening as she turned her face away.

Elsewhere, Burton got up to go to the water station for hot water.

Passing the ER nurses' station, he caught the night-shift handoff.

A few nurses had dropped their voices.

"That patient earlier, Iris Cooley, she's got it so hard. Her own mother died two days ago after they couldn't save her, and today she miscarries and hemorrhages herself."

"I heard she signed the consent form alone. Didn't even fill in an emergency contact."

Another nurse frowned.

"Isn't her husband at the hospital too?"

"He is. That's the same Dr. James from earlier who said she didn't meet the criteria for emergency care."

"His own wife is eight weeks pregnant and he doesn't even know, and he nearly held up her treatment. What kind of husband is that?"

"He's just a cheater too busy keeping his little mistress happy!"

Every drop of blood in Burton's body froze in an instant.

His thermos hit the floor with a bang, scalding water splashing over the top of his foot, but he didn't seem to feel the burn.

He turned stiffly, eyes bloodshot, staring at those few nurses, his voice shaking to pieces.

"What did you just say, who died?"

"Who miscarried?"