The Regret That Lingered in Autumn, Never Reaching Winter

I'm an OB-GYN, and I've pulled more than a few mothers back from the brink of death.

Until the day Derek Rowe walked his thirty-four-weeks-pregnant wife into my exam room.

The intern murmured, Mr. Rowe really is a model husband. He comes to every prenatal checkup himself.

I calmly finished the examination, giving only three lines of medical instruction the whole time.

The intern was puzzled. "Doctor, you've said hardly anything today."

I took off my mask, my tone flat.

"He's my ex-husband, and the woman beside him is the adopted daughter who stole my parents and my husband and then, in the end, sold me to a lawless border region."

"I survived there for three years."

The intern's chart hit the floor with a slap.

Just then Derek came back, holding up the ultrasound report and asking anxiously.

"The umbilical cord is wrapped around the neck twicecan she still deliver naturally? Delia's very frightened."

I answered by rote.

"She can try the knee-chest position, but it depends on whether the baby is willing to turn back."

Derek frowned, his displeasure obvious.

"You're a top OB-GYN. Don't you have some other option?"

"Delia is your sister, after all. Can you really stand to see her left with a scar across her belly?"

I looked up and calmly met his eyes.

"I'm only speaking to the facts. And besides, I've cut ties with the Dickersons. I don't have a sister."

"If Mr. Rowe doesn't trust my diagnosis, he's free to transfer to another doctor anytime."

The words had barely left my mouth when Delia's shrill voice exploded in the corridor.

"Dorothy Dickerson, you're just holding a grudge!"

"My son already has the cord around his neck twice, and you say it's nothing? If I can't deliver naturally and I'm left with a scar on my belly, I will never let you off."

She rushed into the room, grabbed Derek's arm, and tears instantly poured out.

"Derek, look at hershe's clearly doing this on purpose."

"Some top OB-GYN. If you ask me, she's a butcher."

I closed the chart, my voice clear and calm.

"Ms. Dickerson, a nuchal cord is very common in late pregnancy."

"The fetal heartbeat is normal right now, and there's no problem."

Delia jabbed a finger at my nose. "Quit pretending to be the professional here. Don't think I don't know what you're thinking."

"You're just jealous of meyou're getting your revenge!"

I looked at the woman in front of me who had once shoved me into hell, and suddenly I laughed.

"Revenge on you? You think far too highly of yourself. I just don't want to waste my energyafter all, there are plenty of mothers still waiting for me to save them."

Derek's face changed abruptly. "Dorothy, let bygones be bygones."

"Delia is your family too. Talking like this is going too far."

This was the man who once swore me undying love, the man who handed me over to a lawless border region with his own hands.

And even now he could say something like that to me and feel completely justified.

I told the intern, "Take Mr. Rowe and Ms. Dickerson to handle the referral paperwork."

Delia stood there with her belly out, her face twisted.

"Fine, fine. Derek, let's go. I wouldn't let her look at me anyway."

"I must have been blind to ever come to you for a checkup. Who do you think you are?"

Derek stayed where he was, his eyes conflicted.

"Dorothy, can we talk alone?"

I picked up the next chart. "There's no need. Please, both of you go ahead. There are other mothers waiting."

As I watched them turn and leave, a stabbing pain ran through my calfan aftereffect of the comminuted fracture.

My real name is Dorothy Dickerson. I went missing at eight and was taken in by an orphanage.

Delia is my cousin. Her parents died young, and my motherRita, my birth motherbrought her home to raise.

I was reclaimed at sixteen and met coldness at every turn. After I grew up, I got engaged to Derek, who went to the same school.

He was good to me, ached over my past, and gave me a grand fireworks confession when I was twenty.

Even now, I still remember the way my heart pounded back then.

He kissed my lips possessively and declared, "It's sealed nowyou're mine."

I scoffed. "Does that vow of yours actually count?"

He said, "I'll love you my whole life, and if I ever betray this, I'm willing to pay any price."

I thought we were kindred spirits. I thought he understood how hard things had been for me, that he ached over my situation.

But two years into our marriage, all of it changed completely.

On our second wedding anniversary, Delia showed up covered in bruises, pointing at me and accusing me through her tears.

"It's all because of you. You had someone violate me, ruined my good name. You destroyed my life."

"I admit itI love Derek. But he already turned me down. So why won't you let me go?"

I still vividly remember the look in Derek's eyes thenshock, cold fury.

He shoved me off the raised platform and pointed at me, cursing.

"Dorothy Dickerson, I never imagined you could be this vicious."

"The evidence is solid. What more do you have to say? Those people admitted you put them up to it. The bank transfers, the chat logsthey're all right here. What else is there to argue?"

The Rowe family thought I was a disgrace, and the Dickerson family thought I was vicious at heart.

Before I could even defend myself, I was shipped off to a lawless border region that very night.

There was no law there, no dignity. Every day meant electric shocks, beatings, and forced labor.

My lower leg was snapped clean in two by those people during one of my escape attempts.

While they were torturing me, they grinned and said, "That's what you get for crossing the wrong person and standing in someone's way."

Only then did I understand that Delia and Derek couldn't wait for me to die.

Two years ago, I escaped with Ryan's help.

The first thing I did was divorce Derek.

The second was to cut ties with them forever, and to start gathering evidence.

The memories faded, and the smell of disinfectant in the exam room pulled me back to reality.

I took a deep breath, pushed down the emotions churning inside me, and turned to the next medical file with a blank expression.

"Next. Ms. Li, please come in."

I focused on the patient in front of me, which pulled me away from the bloody memories of the past.

Saving lives and healing the sickthat was why I went into medicine in the first place.

Even now, working through the pain, I still wanted to stay on the front line.

After work, I had just reached the parking lot when I saw that someone had spray-painted my car.

Worthless doctor, go die already!

I stared at the red words, my fingernails digging into my palm, then took out my phone and called the police.

Inside the police station.

The surveillance footage was crystal clear: two strange men had done it, and the person who put them up to it was quickly identified. It was Delia.

Derek rushed over, learned the whole story, and then said to me,

"Dorothy, Delia's emotions are unstable during her pregnancy. Surely you can understand that?"

I looked him straight in the eye, my voice calm.

"Mr. Rowe, deliberately destroying property and spreading rumorsthat isn't something you can wave away with 'unstable emotions.'"

His brows furrowed, and a trace of impatience crept in.

"I know Delia went a little too far, but she's your sister after all, and she's pregnant now."

"Can't you let it go, for the sake of what we once had?"

I looked at him as though I'd heard some absurd joke, and asked back,

"You think there's still something like that between us? You let me be exiled to that border region for three years, and now that I just want to live my own life, that's wrong too?"

Derek's face turned ugly in an instant, his eyes wavering, not daring to meet mine.

Beside us, the officer asked, all business, "Ms. Whitney, the evidence is conclusive. Do you want to pursue legal action against her?"

My tone was firm. "Of course I do. Handle it through the proper channels. I won't accept any kind of settlement."

Derek wanted to say more, but I had already signed my name on the record.

As I walked out the door of the station, his urgent voice came from behind me.

"Dorothy Dickerson."

I turned and cut him off.

"My name is Dorothy Whitney now."

Derek was furious. "All we did was send you abroad for three years, and now you change your name and refuse to acknowledge your parents."

"Do you have any idea how much this hurts people?"

I let out a soft laugh and spoke without a shred of warmth.

"That wasn't abroad. That was a lawless border region. That was hell. As for my parents..."

"They chose Delia a long time ago. They don't deserve to be my parents. My name is Whitney, because the orphanage director is the one who gave me a second life."

Derek seemed to choke on that, but he couldn't help defending himself.

"If you hadn't framed Delia, we would never have wanted to teach you a lesson."

"Besides, you made it back just fine, didn't you?"

Made it back just fine?

I'm covered in scars, with damage to more than one organ, and every night I have countless nightmaresI can't fall asleep without medication.

And they thought none of it mattered.

I didn't want to talk to him anymore, so I walked out, flagged down a car, and headed home.

My phone kept ringing.

For over a year now, no matter how many numbers I changed, they always managed to track me down.

One abusive text after another.

Dorothy, raising you would be worse than raising a dog. I should have known better than to take you back. Mr. Dickerson.

Dot, come home. Apologize to Delia. I'll bury the past for you, and we'll still be a family. Mrs. Dickerson.

To me, you'll always be a loser. Delia.

I stared at them with no expression, then blocked all three numbers on the spot, and the world went quiet in an instant.

The moment I stepped off the elevator, I saw several photos scattered across the floor by my apartment door.

I bent down to pick them up, and a chill shot from the soles of my feet straight to the top of my head.

These were the vile, unspeakable pictures that had been forced on me back in that lawless border region.

There was writing on the back of one photo.

If you don't want these photos showing up on your hospital's bulletin board, then apologize to me like a good girl.

Delia.

I clenched my fists tightly, my body trembling faintly, unable to stop it, all kinds of emotions surging up inside me.

But only seconds later, they were replaced by cold hatred.

I took a deep breath and made a call.

"Ryan, the things we prepared earlieryou can release them now."

"Okay."

After hanging up, I looked down at the photos in my hand and tore them to shreds.

The person I was now would not be defeated so easily.

Early the next morning.

As soon as I arrived at the hospital, I heard the doctors and nurses talking.

"Mr. Rowe really is loaded. He booked an entire floor just for his wife."

"So jealous. Why can't I ever meet a good man like that?"

In love, were they?

He'd treated me that way once too. When we first got married, we were deeply in love.

Just because I burned my hand by accident while cooking at home, he rushed me to the hospital in a panic.

The doctor even teased us, laughing.

"Any later and the wound would've healed on its own."

I laughed until I nearly doubled overafter all, I was a doctor myself.

But he said, "A doctor can't heal herself. I'm this nervous because I love you."

"I don't want a single scar left on you."

Back then, I thought that was probably what happiness was.

Until he started staying out all night. Delia hadn't just stolen my own parentsshe'd stolen my husband too.

I'd barely sat down in the exam room when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

I put on my mask and sanitized my hands.

Then Derek appeared, his face dark.

"Delia trusts your skills, so she came to you specifically for a checkup, and you prescribed her abortion medication?"

"Dorothy, you're as vicious as ever!"

I pointed to the camera, and to the intern standing beside me.

"Mr. Rowe, you should back up your words with evidence. Every prescription I've written since I began practicing medicine can stand up to scrutiny."

Derek slammed a prescription slip down on the desk.

"This is the evidence! After taking the medicine you prescribed, Delia had unbearable abdominal pain and started bleeding."

I picked up the slip, glanced at it, and coldly curled my lip.

"These are vitamins and calcium tablets, Mr. Rowe. If these could cause a miscarriage, then no pregnant woman would ever need to take them."

His face froze. He clearly hadn't expected me to be so composed.

"Impossible. Did you switch out the medicine?"

I said mockingly, "Did I run down to the pharmacy warehouse just to swap it? Or did I sneak into your house to swap it?"

I pulled up Delia's medical record.

"Mr. Rowe, take a look for yourself. Where exactly did I go wrong?"

His eyes wavered. Even the slightest bit of thought would tell him that, as a doctor, I would never do such a thing.

"Dorothy, I'm sorry. I was too impulsive."

I gave a professional smile. "It's fine. Mrs. Rowe's safety is what matters most."

That afternoon, word that I'd once spent time in a lawless border region spread like wildfire.

The nurses whispered among themselves, and even patients stopped booking appointments with me.

"I never would have guessed Dr. Whitney had a past like that."

"After being in a place like that, can she really still be professional?"

"I heard about where she was. Ugh, she's really not clean."

I stood in the doorway of the break room with my water cup in hand, and a few young nurses looked embarrassed and hurried away.

The director called me into his office and set the anonymous email on my desk.

"What exactly is going on here?"

I picked up the document. My fingertips went cold, but my voice stayed steady.

"Director, I'll handle this."

"I can't change my past, but I can promise you that every minute I'm sitting in that exam room, I'm a qualified doctor."

The director looked at me and nodded.

After all, in my two years at the hospital, I had been dutiful and dedicated, with an excellent record.

As I walked out of the office, Delia appeared in front of me, her eyes smug.

"My dear sister, do you like the gift I gave you?"

"Three years in that border region is nothing. Being thrown out of the house is nothing. I'm going to make sure you can never hold your head up again for the rest of your life, that you live like a rat in a gutter."

I stopped, looked at her, and suddenly smiled.

"Delia, are you sure you want to talk about this with me here?"

She hadn't expected that reaction. She froze for a moment, then lifted her chin.

"What? Afraid people will hear about the shameful things you've done?"

I took a step forward, my gaze sweeping over her swollen belly.

"Compared to some people who stole their whole life through scheming and lies, I'd say my past can stand in the light just fine."

Her expression shifted slightly, and she instinctively shielded her stomach.

I didn't give her a chance to speak, and went on.

"Gifts should go both ways, so I've prepared one for you too."

"I hope you'll like it when the time comes."

A flicker of panic crossed Delia's eyes, but it was quickly covered by her forced composure.

"What are you talking about? Who would ever believe someone who came back from a place like that"

I said nothing. I just watched her quietly.

Delia was frightened by my stare, clutched her stomach, and collapsed to the floor in pain.

The scene instantly dissolved into chaos.

The head nurse cried out, "Quick, a stretcher!"

Delia was lifted onto a gurney, her face pale, but one hand still jabbed at me, her voice shrill.

"It was herDorothy provoked me. She's trying to hurt my baby."

Every eye landed on me, some suspicious, some prying and contemptuous.

I stood where I was and simply spoke calmly.

"Suspected preterm labor. Prep for an emergency C-section, and notify the pediatrician to be on standby."

Derek arrived the moment he heard, grabbing my wrist so hard he nearly crushed the bone.

"Dorothy, if anything happens to Delia and the baby, I will never let you off."

Mr. Dickerson rushed in and slapped me across the face.

Blood instantly welled up at the corner of my mouth, and my ears rang.

Mrs. Dickerson, stricken, pointed at me and cursed too.

I looked at the way they were all stamping and raging, and laughed out loud.

"What are you laughing at?" Mrs. Dickerson glared at me.

I took out my phone and hit play.

Delia's smug, vicious voice from moments ago poured out.

My dear sister, do you like the gift? Three years in that border region is nothing...

At the same time, negative news about Delia climbed into the trending headlines.

Shocking! Mrs. Rowe has a record of multiple miscarriages overseas.

To drive out the real heiress, she went so far as to stage the whole thing and hire a man to rape herleaked audio inside.

Mrs. Dickerson's pointing hand froze in the air, and Mr. Dickerson's raised hand stopped dead.

I slowly wiped the blood from the corner of my lips, my gaze sweeping calmly over each of them.

"Did you hear that clearly? What exactly is the truth?"

The operating room door flew open, and a nurse rushed out, her voice urgent.

"Mr. Rowe, Mrs. Rowe is in critical condition. She's hemorrhagingplease sign the papers, quickly!"