The Heartless Doctor My Father-in-Law's Fatal Surgery

Dad was on the verge of dying. Tears wouldn’t stop falling, but I forced myself to hold it together, heart pounding with panic as I stood by the door and kept calling Jason without pause.

After countless attempts, he finally picked up.

But the voice on the line was of a familiar woman’s.

“Hi, sister! Jason and I are watching the Eiffel Tower lights!”

Ava’s bright, playful voice floated through the receiver.

My heart seized, and panic flickered across my face.

“Put Jason on—now! Tell him to come back. It’s urgent!”

“Is that woman calling again?” Jason’s voice came from the background, impatient and unmistakable. “Ava, tell her to knock it off. The Eiffel Tower lights are about to go out. Can she stop making a scene?”

The moment I heard Jason’s voice, half the warmth drained from my body.

Before I could speak, the call was cut off again.

The cold, mechanical busy tone droned in my ear, and I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling.

I dialed again, but his phone was already switched off.

No matter how hard I tried, there wasn’t the slightest opening for a turnaround; the phone stayed off.

Without the attending surgeon, the already-slim chance of survival dropped even lower.

The associate surgeon fought on for twenty straight hours. Jason’s phone remained off.

And because he wasn’t there to operate, my father, in the end, didn’t make it.

After my father died, I started handling every detail of his funeral.

Many relatives were in other cities and couldn’t get there in time, so only my friends, Dad’s colleagues in town, and my closest aunt were present.

On the day of the funeral, a gale wind rose and rain came down in sheets outside.

My aunt and my best friend, Chloe, stayed with me, helping manage all the big and small tasks.

When I was younger and ignorant, I thought funerals were simple.

Only by living through one did I realize how hard they are.

The schedule was so packed I barely had a moment to breathe.

Only when I stood before Dad’s memorial portrait, looking at him lying in the coffin, did my numb mind loosen its grip for a brief breath.

Since his death, I’d moved like a feelingless puppet getting everything done—without shedding even a single tear.

Seeing how hollow and lost I looked, my aunt asked, heart aching for me:

“Why didn’t Jason come?”

“His own father-in-law passed and he still didn’t show—what kind of logic is that!?”

I lifted my head and took in the anger lining her face, pulling my lips into a bitter smile.

Exactly—why didn’t Jason come?

As my husband, he should have been at my side.

As my father’s son-in-law, he should have come to see him off.

But he didn’t.

Numbly, I dialed his number again; the line was still busy.

Seeing I couldn’t get through, my aunt, furious, took out her own phone and called.

He answered instantly.

“What is wrong with you? Why won’t you come back for your father-in-law’s funeral?”

But it was Ava again who picked up.

When my aunt said my father had passed, Ava not only refused to believe it, she turned on my aunt:

“And who are you? Using such sneaky tricks just to get through to Jason? I’d say you’re desperate to talk to him!”

With that, she hung up.

My aunt’s brows shot up in fury; she swore outright.

My best friend, Chloe, rushed over, speechless with anger at Jason:

“Why isn’t your husband back? He left you to handle all this alone—what is wrong with him!?”

“What kind of man is that!”

Chloe’s chatter buzzed in my ear while I stared blankly up at the sky.

I suddenly remembered that before he left, Jason had told me he was going on a trip with a group of friends.

I wanted him to take me along, but he said it was a tight friends’ gathering and inconvenient.

I even comforted myself: crashing a close friends’ trip when I didn’t know anyone would be awkward.

What I hadn’t expected was that Ava would be there too.

And before leaving, Jason had promised me again and again that he’d be back on the day of my father’s surgery.

But the emergency came too suddenly; I never imagined Dad would worsen like that.

Nor did I imagine Ava would be at Jason’s side.

Least of all did I imagine that because I couldn’t reach Jason, my father would die for lack of timely treatment.

Powerlessness flooded my entire body in an instant.

I looked out toward the yard.

The sky was heavy and cold—just like my mood.

Fragments of my father’s kindness to me over the years rose one by one in my mind.

Finally, my nose stung, and a single tear fell, along with the rain outside the eaves.

“Dad is gone. No one will ever love me unconditionally again.”