While waiting for my wedding dress fitting, I aimlessly scrolled through the local CityThread forum to pass the time. Darren had texted me thirty minutes ago, apologizing. He said he was tied up in a critical lab meeting for his state-funded research project and couldn’t make it to help me choose. At the top of the trending page was an urgent advice thread. The original poster wrote: “Help! A stray dog just licked my hand in the elevator. No open cuts. But ten minutes later, my boyfriend kissed my hand and pinned me against the car seat, kissing me wildly. Do we both need rabies shots?” The comment section below was filled with teasing and jokes: [Get the shots, girl! And absolutely no sex before that. This stuff spreads through body fluids.] [Oh my god, what if you get pregnant? You’re going to give birth to a puppy lol!] As an infectious disease specialist, I scoffed under my breath. I was about to swipe away from the sheer lack of basic science when my eyes caught the attached photo. It was a picture of two hands, fingers tightly locked. Slipped just under the man’s jacket sleeve was a distinctive sapphire cufflink. It was a rare piece I had spent a fortune to win at an overseas auction. Just this morning, I had personally fastened it onto Darren’s sleeve as an engagement gift. My gaze drifted back to the comment about “giving birth to a puppy.” I tapped reply: “Get the shot. Aim straight for the temple. Otherwise, it won’t work.” 1 Inside the fitting room of the bridal boutique, the vanity lights were blindingly bright. The stylist adjusted my train, smiling warmly. “Dr. Sawyer, Professor Mercer has incredible taste. This gown is absolutely perfect for you. He even called ahead to specify that the veil should be a soft, low-saturation blue to match your engagement cufflinks.” I looked at my reflection in the mirror, staying quiet. My phone screen was still open to that photo on CityThread. I tapped on the poster’s profile. Her avatar was a cartoon dog, and her bio read: DaisyDreams. Her posts suggested she was a college student. I went back to the attached photo. The fingers were tightly intertwined, the girl’s nails painted a glossy cherry red. The man’s sleeve was pulled back just enough to reveal the cornflower blue sapphire, catching the dim light of the car interior. Before leaving the house this morning, I had fastened them myself. I had spent six months tracking down those cufflinks through an international auction house. They were a one-of-a-kind set. He had leaned down, letting me adjust his cuffs, and smiled. “Something this expensive? I’m going to have to treat it like a sacred relic.” I zoomed in on the image. In the dark reflection of the car window next to the cufflink, a blurry set of characters was visible. Level B2, near the west elevator. It was the underground parking lot of St. Jude’s Medical Center. Where Darren always parked. “Dr. Sawyer, should we take the waist of this gown in a little more?” the stylist’s voice broke through my thoughts. I turned off my screen and looked up. My gaze settled on my reflection in the floor-length mirror. “No need to alter it,” I said, my voice flat. The stylist stepped closer, looking puzzled. “But Professor Mercer called this morning specifically to tell us that you’ve been losing weight from working so many surgeries. He insisted we line the waist with the softest silk satin so it wouldn’t pinch you.” Hearing those words, a cold dread began to pool in my chest. Before leaving today, Darren had played the part of the perfect fiancé. He had stood by the entryway, gently adjusting the collar of my coat. His hands had been so warm as they brushed through my hair. “Help me take it off, please,” I said, turning away from the mirror. The stylist hesitated, her hands hovering. “Don’t you want to take a few photos to send to Professor Mercer? He handpicked this design himself.” “No,” I replied, my tone distant. After changing back into my street clothes, I grabbed my bag and walked out. The crisp spring breeze carried a chill, instantly washing away the sweet, heavy scent of the bridal boutique. As soon as I got into my car, my work phone vibrated aggressively. It was an urgent notification from the emergency department’s internal consult group. [Urgent consult requested at the Rabies Clinic. Patient suspected exposure to a stray dog. Requesting Infectious Disease evaluation. Patient Name: Daisy Collins.] Daisy Collins. DaisyDreams. The words from the forum post echoed in my mind: “…pinned me against the car seat, kissing me wildly.” A wave of nausea hit me. Rabies has a long incubation period with absolutely no symptoms. Once the disease manifests, the mortality rate is one hundred percent. It is completely incurable. So is betrayal. I took a deep, steadying breath and gripped the steering wheel. A bit of silver glitter from the wedding dress had rubbed off on my coat sleeve, sitting there like a layer of ash that wouldn’t wash away. 2 “Dr. Sawyer, thank goodness you’re here. This patient is incredibly hysterical.” The moment I stepped into the ER lobby, Dr. Harris hurried over to meet me. The door to the exam room at the end of the hall was cracked open. Even from a distance, I could hear soft, trembling sobs coming from inside. “Dr. Mercer, am I going to die? I haven’t even graduated yet. I don’t want to die.” Then came Darren’s voice, low and comforting. “Don’t think like that, Daisy. It was just a lick. There’s no broken skin, so you’re going to be fine. I’m right here with you.” I stopped in my tracks and looked through the glass pane. Darren was sitting on the edge of the examination bed, holding Daisy gently against his shoulder. One hand patbed her back in slow, rhythmic circles, while the other held her hand, inspecting it with deep concern. It was a look I hadn’t seen on his face since we first started dating ten years ago. I pushed the door open, my heels clicking sharply against the linoleum floor. “If Professor Mercer is so certain she’s fine, why are we wasting emergency room resources and calling for an urgent ID consult?” Darren whipped his head around. The moment he saw me, the tenderness on his face froze, replaced by a sudden, stark panic. He instinctively let go of Daisy and stood up straight. “Marina? What are you doing here?” “The consult was posted to the department group. Why wouldn’t I be here?” I walked in slowly, my eyes sliding over the two of them. He swallowed hard. “I… I didn’t mean it like that.” “Didn’t you say your research project was at a critical stage? So critical that you couldn’t even make time to see me try on wedding dresses because you had to monitor the data yourself?” My voice was steady, completely devoid of emotion. Darren’s throat worked as he struggled to find words. “Yes… it is. I just stepped out of the lab for a moment and happened to run into Daisy. She was terrified by a dog.” “I’m her advisor. It’s my responsibility to look after my students’ well-being.” “Happened to run into her?” I let out a dry, quiet laugh. “What was the topic of your discussion today? Whether rabies can be transmitted through a kiss?” Darren’s face flushed deep red, his voice rising. “Marina! What are you implying? This is a hospital. Don’t start a scene over nothing!” Daisy shrank back on the bed, her shoulders trembling as tears spilled over. “Dr. Sawyer, please don’t blame Dr. Mercer. I was just so scared, and I grabbed onto him. If I’ve upset you, I’m so sorry.” Looking at the two of them, I felt nothing but a profound sense of absurdity. I pulled on a pair of sterile gloves and stepped up to Daisy’s side, completely professional. “Show me your hand.” Daisy hesitated, looking at Darren for permission before slowly extending her hand. I bent down to examine it. The skin was entirely intact. No redness, no swelling, no abrasions. “According to standard protocols, this is a Category I exposure,” I said, pulling off the gloves and tossing them into the biohazard bin. “No vaccine is required. Just wash it with soap and water.” Daisy bit her lip, her voice shaking. “Dr. Mercer, will I really be okay?” Before Darren could offer more comfort, I spoke up. “With proper hygiene, the risk is negligible. The real danger is when people assume everything is fine, let things linger, and fail to address the underlying issue.” Daisy stared at me. “But I don’t feel sick at all.” I set the chart down on the counter. “That is the most terrifying part of the disease. During the incubation period, there are absolutely no symptoms.” The room fell into a heavy silence. I began filling out the intake form, asking about the dog’s vaccination status and where the encounter took place. Daisy’s answers were a mess—first she claimed it was a rescue dog from a shelter, then she said it was a stray near the elevators. Halfway through, I paused and looked up. “Which one was it?” She clutched her phone, staying silent. Darren answered for her. “It must have been a stray. Let’s just treat it as a standard exposure for now.” I raised my eyes to meet his. “You are her academic advisor, Darren, not her spokesperson.” Darren’s expression darkened. 3 “Marina, don’t make this something it isn’t. Daisy is one of my brightest students, and she has no family in the city. She was simply out of her mind with fear.” Darren took a step forward, reaching out to grasp my hand. I stepped back, letting his hand hang awkwardly in the air. His face tightened with embarrassment. “Marina, do you always have to be this cold and confrontational?” he muttered. “It was a minor incident. There’s no need to speak to her so harshly.” I looked at him, my expression blank. “Confrontational? I am stating clinical facts.” Suddenly, Daisy gasped, clutching her chest as she leaned back against the pillows. “Dr. Mercer, I feel so dizzy… My heart is racing.” “Is the virus already in my bloodstream?” She drifted sideways, falling naturally toward Darren. He caught her immediately, his face etched with panic. “Marina, please, just run another exam! The incubation period varies, but what if she’s an exceptional case?” As a senior general surgeon at St. Jude’s, Darren knew the basic pathology of viral transmission perfectly well. But his judgment was clouded by concern—or perhaps he was simply enjoying the thrill of being so desperately needed by a young girl. “An exception?” I picked up the clipboard and signed the chart with a swift, fluid motion. “Medicine doesn’t deal in ‘what ifs.’ If she’s experiencing sudden dizziness and palpitations, I suggest a psychiatric consult to rule out hysteria.” Just then, the duty nurse walked in with the standard pre-exposure prophylaxis intake sheet, ready to verify Daisy’s information. Without looking up, the nurse began reciting the routine questions. “Daisy Collins, correct? Any chance you might be pregnant, or are you currently trying to conceive?” It was a standard question before administering certain clinical interventions. Daisy flinched violently. Her head snapped up, her eyes flying to Darren. Darren went entirely pale, a look of sheer panic crossing his features. I watched them, my gaze locked onto Darren’s face. Daisy bit her lip hard, her voice barely a whisper, yet loud enough to echo in the quiet exam room. “Dr. Mercer… what we did last night, could that have any effect?” The room fell dead silent. The nurse’s pen froze over the paper, and she let out a tiny, sharp intake of breath. The confession was far more damaging than any formal accusation of an affair could ever be. I remembered the advice thread online. No sex before that. This stuff spreads through body fluids. The irony was swift, cutting straight through me. Darren gasped, trying desperately to salvage the situation. “Daisy! You must be running a fever. What on earth are you talking about?” Daisy seemed to realize her slip of the tongue. Her face went translucent with dread. She scrambled to sit up, reaching out to grasp Darren’s arm. In her haste, her hand caught the fabric of his shirt cuff. Clink. A small, sharp sound echoed through the room. The sapphire cufflink hit the linoleum floor. Daisy gasped, losing her footing, and stepped directly onto it. With a sickening, crunching sound, the rare cornflower blue sapphire shattered into a dozen pieces. 4 The air in the room grew heavy. The engagement gift I had spent months searching for, pulling strings just to bid on at an auction, was crushed under a student’s shoe. Along with ten years of my life, it was reduced to glittering dust. Daisy covered her mouth, her eyes wide with terror. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry, Dr. Sawyer! I didn’t mean to. I just felt dizzy and lost my balance.” Even as she apologized, she shrank further behind Darren’s shoulder. Darren looked down at the blue shards on the floor, his brow furrowed. Instead of reprimanding her, he turned to me, his voice laced with irritation. “Marina, look at how badly you’ve frightened her.” “It’s just a cufflink. It’s broken now. I’ll just buy you another one.” Buy me another one. The piece was irreplaceable, and he had no idea of its value, let alone the effort I had put into finding it. He simply didn’t care. “Just a cufflink? Darren, do you have any idea what that meant?” I stood up, a dull ache starting to throb in my chest. Darren pulled at his tie, his impatience flaring. “What could it possibly mean? It’s a piece of jewelry, Marina.” “You are always like this—so rigid, so demanding. You take every little thing and turn it into a federal case.” “Do you have any idea how suffocating it is to be with you?” Suffocating. The word hung in the air, scraping against my nerves. I had stayed by his side from his days as a struggling resident to his current position as a respected surgeon. I had turned down prestigious fellowships abroad to help him build his career. And now, he found me suffocating. Daisy peered out from behind him, offering me a paper tissue. “Dr. Sawyer, I am so incredibly sorry. Let me pay you back for it. I know I’m just a student, but I can set up a payment plan…” As she reached out, she deliberately tilted her phone toward me. The screen lit up. The wallpaper was a photo of Darren sleeping soundly, bare-chested. Daisy was snuggled against his shoulder, flashing a peace sign at the camera. The background was the master bedroom of the condo we had just bought together. What we did last night. The pieces of the puzzle clicked together, and the last of my composure vanished. They hadn’t just kissed in his car. They had been sleeping in my bed. I looked coldly at Daisy, ignoring her tissue. “A poor student? You’re living in my apartment and sleeping with my fiancé. You seem to be doing quite well for yourself.” Daisy’s face drained of color, clearly not expecting me to lay everything bare in front of the nurse. She quickly tucked her phone away, her eyes filling with tears. “Dr. Sawyer, what are you saying? I don’t understand…” She reached out, trying to grab my arm. “Please don’t be angry with me. I really didn’t mean to…” I instinctively pulled my arm back. “Don’t touch me.” Daisy screamed, throwing herself backward and hitting the floor with a loud thud. “Daisy!” Darren snapped. He lunged forward, pushing me back with force. “Marina, you’ve gone too far! She’s just a kid who looks up to me. How could you be so vicious?” Caught off guard, I stumbled back several steps. My back slammed hard against the glass-fronted medicine cabinet. Crash— The sound of shattering glass filled the room. Heavy shards rained down. One large piece sliced deep into the palm of my right hand. Blood began to pour, dripping onto the clean white floor in bright, terrifying pools. My right hand. My surgical hand. I leaned against the cabinet, my entire body shaking with white-hot pain. But Darren didn’t even look at me. He was already on his knees, gently checking Daisy’s arms and legs for scratches. Looking at the blood on my hand, a strange, quiet sense of relief washed over me. The sickness that had been incubating in our relationship for years had finally shown its face. It was fatal, and there was no point in trying to cure it anymore. I pressed my left hand over the wound, holding it tight as I walked toward the door. “You’re free, Darren. We are done.”
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