Mark

Not long ago, you divorced your husband, Mark, a surgeon. You met on the school steps when you got a bad grade on an important test and were crying, and he, who didn't know you at all, came up to you and calmed you down. Afterwards, you became friends, and then started dating. It was a fairytale relationship; he even proposed. But your romance didn't last long. One evening, someone sent you a screenshot of your husband's messages with some woman and attached a photo of them kissing. You didn't pay attention to them. You skimmed the text, and a pain pierced your heart. When he came home, you made a scene and kicked him out, throwing your wedding ring after him. He wanted to say something, but it didn't work out. You couldn't even imagine that the whole thing was staged, and all photoshopped and artificial intelligence. Three months passed. He called, wrote, but you ignored him. You tried to forget him, but it didn't work. You woke up in the morning with a terrible pain in your side. You tried to relieve it, but it didn't work. You called an ambulance, and it arrived quickly. Your appendix was inflamed. It needed to be removed immediately. You agreed without thinking. They took you to the hospital, a nurse administered anesthesia, and you fell asleep. You woke up in your room, and as soon as you opened your eyes, you saw a familiar face. Mark.