The Gym Coach in My Wife’s Hospital Bed

On Thanksgiving night, the chief physician of the Proctology Department sent a message in the hospital group chat.

"Was about to leave work, and then the sky fell."

Attached was an X-ray film showing a long, foreign object in the patient's rectal contrast image.

I replied with a laugh: "Congratulations, Chief. You've earned some overtime."

A short while later, he messaged me privately.

"Ethan, the patient's family member looks a lot like your wife."

I opened the photo he sent. The woman in it was Iris Lowell, my wife of five years. Curled up beside her was her personal trainer, Dylan Evans.

My sky fell too.

Changing into my regular clothes and locking my clinic door, I strode quickly toward the Proctology Department.

Iris had met Dylan three months ago. To lose weight, she had bought $20,000 worth of personal training sessions with him at the gym. They had grown familiar over time.

Our relationship had been good all these years. I never imagined anything could be happening between them.

But today, Iris was supposed to be working overtime.

Could it be...

I tried to suppress my emotions, not letting my mind run wild. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding.

The Proctology Department was quite far from Dentistry, separated by an entire building. As I rounded the final corner, I heard Iris's furious voice.

"What's left to test? What are you waiting for? He's in so much pain!"

"I signed the form ages ago! Why haven't you scheduled the surgery yet? If anything happens to my husband, I'll sue this hospital into bankruptcy!"

Husband?

Iris called him... husband?

A sense of dread spread through my mind. I instinctively quickened my pace.

A young nurse standing nearby spotted me first. She rushed over as if seeing a lifeline.

"Dr. Sullivan, we need to run a routine HIV test before surgery, but the patient's family member refuses to wait. She's been causing a scene for half an hour. What should we do?"

She pointed to the surgical consent form in her hand. Written clearly under "Spouse" was the name: Iris Lowell.

My intuition screamed that Iris was having an affair.

My mind went blank with a sudden buzz. For a moment, I couldn't hear anything.

My brain involuntarily conjured images of Iris and Dylan entangled, frantic, in bed. My body reacted with a dry heave.

I rushed forward and grabbed Iris's arm, demanding sharply, "What did you just call him? 'Husband'? Then who am I?"

Iris was startled, her anger deflating. Her expression froze, and she couldn't meet my eyes.

"You... why are you still here? Shouldn't you be home by now?"

"Didn't you say you were working overtime tonight and wouldn't be home for dinner? Did you forget your own lie?"

Iris had been having stomach issues lately. To cook her bland, soothing meals, I rushed home right after work every day.

Today, she said she was working overtime and had brought her own food. That's why I had stayed later at the hospital.

"If I weren't here, I wouldn't have known my wife has another husband."

Whispers erupted around us. The nurses murmured among themselves.

"That's really Dr. Sullivan's wife? I thought she looked familiar, but I didn't dare say anything earlier."

"This... is this an affair? So brazen..."