Secrets in the Scrubs: A Nurse's Unraveling

As a nurse, I always felt like I married above my station and thus was obliged to my husband, the head of cardiothoracic surgery.

That was until I discovered a mysterious little bottle of pills in his coat pocket.

1

When our wedding anniversary coincided with my period of ovulation, I thought perhaps it was fate.

I meticulously prepared myself and waited for my husband to come home so we could start a family on our anniversary.

Busy at the hospital, he didn't return until after 11 p.m.

I greeted him warmly, wearing a high-slit white dress, my hair styled elegantly, a hint of perfume, and flawless makeup, all designed to catch his attention.

"Honey, do I look..." Good today? My words trailed off as he disappeared into the study.

Silently, I gathered his clothes to do the laundry.

Among the familiar items like his wallet, tissues, and notebook, a bottle labeled with foreign language caught my eye.

I opened it, and a pungent smell hit me.

Instantly, I felt dizzy, my heart raced, and my limbs weakened.

This was no ordinary medication. How could my husband, a professional doctor, carry such a drug?

A woman's intuition and my medical training told me there must be something off about the pills in this bottle.

I took a photo of it and sent it to my best friend Ethel Wright.

Ethel and I became friends when we were working at the hospital.

I was an obstetrics nurse, and she was a lab technician.

It wasn't long before Ethel called.

"Where did you find this bottle?" Her tone was serious.

"I... picked it up on the streets. What is it?" I hesitated, not wanting to reveal the truth but eager to know what the pills in this bottle were for.

Ethel's voice grew more serious. "Do you know about alkyl nitrites? The main component of the pills in this bottle is volatile alkyl nitrites. Inhaling it relaxes smooth muscles and dilates blood vessels... It's an illicit drug used to enhance intimate experiences between same-sex partners."

My mind went blank, the words "between same-sex partners" echoing in my ears.

"This can't be your husband's, right?" Ethel pressed.

"No!" I instinctively denied it, but my trembling body and hot tears betrayed me.

How could this be possible?

I collapsed to the floor, staring at the bottle in my hand, my thoughts drifting back to over a year ago...

2

I was born into a poor family that valued sons over daughters.

I could still feel resentment and pain when I recalled my parents forcing me to change my college major and my mother's parting words. "You should become a nurse to earn money as soon as possible and support our family!"

After graduation, as my parents wished, I got a job in the obstetrics department of a top hospital in the capital city.

They praised me for being capable and brought my younger brother to the city to live with me.

On the first day, my mother took my salary card under the excuse of saving for my wedding. "Sweetheart, you're so capable. You definitely deserve a grand wedding. I'll save the money for you, and when you're getting married, I'll throw you a wonderful wedding. The rest will be yours for your new family!"

I knew my mother was lying, but I accepted it with a sliver of hope that she might really care for me.

Yet, they took my sacrifices for granted, even complaining I didn't earn enough money for them and suspecting I had a secret stash.

Of course, there was no secret stash, and I endured the pressure from them day by day.

I didn't dare shop online, go out, and order takeout, not to mention date anyone.

But unexpectedly, in this stressful time, I met Harold.

That night, I was carrying a bunch of takeout for my colleagues, waiting for the elevator.

As the doors opened, Harold rushed out and bumped into me.

Everything in my hands fell, spilling all over me.

"I'm sorry. I was in a hurry." Harold was tall, handsome, and exuded a gentle elegance. He crouched down to help me clean the mess but froze.

"This is all for my colleagues..." I couldn't afford to compensate for it, so I awkwardly asked him for compensation.

Harold quickly transferred me 300 bucks and told me to reorder the takeout. "I'm sorry. I have an urgent matter. I'm afraid I have to go now."

He left hurriedly, but his retreating figure was attractive and striking.

I reordered the food and returned the money left to Harold with a message. "Here's the breakdown of the order. Please take the change."

After some thought, I added, "I could wash my dirty clothes. No need to compensate for it."

That night, I worked the graveyard shift. At 1 a.m., Harold confirmed that he accepted the money but said nothing else.

I thought my interactions with the handsome stranger would end there.

But a week later, Harold found me at my department and began pursuing me.

Showered with my colleagues' envious remarks, I learned I had struck gold.

His father was the head of cardiology at our hospital, and also a renowned cardiac surgeon.

His mother was a senior executive at a well-known pharmaceutical company in the city.

As for himself, he was a graduate of a prestigious university, a doctor in the cardiothoracic department, with a promising future.

We quickly moved towards marriage.

Even when my mother demanded 300, 000 dollars without the intention of giving them a gift, Harold's family generously agreed.

They even hosted a grand wedding for us.

On our wedding night, I was prepared for a passionate evening with Harold.

But he claimed he was too drunk and unsuitable for intimacy, taking a pillow to the study instead.

I felt something was off, but then I suddenly remembered my mother-in-law's advice before the wedding.

"We've been so busy with work that we've neglected Harold. He's clueless about anything besides studying and working, let alone sexual life between couples. So you need to take the initiative and be more understanding."

He must be shy, and afraid of not performing well.

After all, we were each other's first love.

I comforted myself with these thoughts.

3

The day after the wedding, Harold claimed he was urgently needed and returned to work even before our honeymoon started.

He worked all day long, and often night shifts, leaving me no chance to get close to him.

We were not like a newlywed couple at all. Could it be that he had physical or psychological issues?

I endured such a life for half a month, but when I couldn't take it anymore and decided to talk to Harold, my mother-in-law came to visit me.

My mother-in-law placed a heap of supplements helpful for pregnancy on the table and handed me my salary card with a smile, saying, "You're part of our family now, and I'll make sure you're always supported."

I looked at my salary card in my hand, overwhelmed with mixed emotions.

Knowing my mother too well, I expected her to seek help from my in-laws after my marriage, but I never imagined she would directly ask my mother-in-law to find a job for my brother.

What was even more surprising was that my mother-in-law not only arranged for my brother to work as a warehouse manager in her company but also offered a house for my parents and brother to live in for free.

Upon learning that my salary card was with my mother, my mother-in-law took the initiative to negotiate its return by agreeing to give my parents a monthly allowance of 6, 000 dollars.

My mother reluctantly handed my salary card to my mother-in-law, given that my brother had a new job and that they had a new house and allowance.

How could I not feel obliged to my husband's family with my mother demanding so much from them?

Just as I was about to say something, my mother-in-law held my hand and started advising me to be understanding and not get mad at Harold for his busy work life because he was under a lot of pressure. And she said I should take care of my health for pregnancy, and finally suggested I resign from my job. After all, being a nurse meant frequent night shifts, which made it difficult to care for Harold and wasn't conducive to preparing for pregnancy.

"You're right, but I love my job," I reflexively refused.

"Do as I say and resign," my mother-in-law insisted. Before I could stand my ground, she pulled out ovulation test strips from her bag and instructed me to calculate the ovulation period for intimacy.

I could only nod obediently.

When the ovulation period arrived, I blushed as I told Harold about it with the test strips in hand.

Harold glanced at the strips, his expression serious, "I know."

He then turned and went to the study.

Unexpectedly, in the middle of the night, Harold climbed into bed in the dark, holding me from behind and starting the sex.

His grip was strong, his actions rough, and he even forbade me to speak. Without any foreplay, all I felt was pain.

Afterward, Harold turned his back to me and went to sleep.

"Honey, it hurts," I cautiously approached him, seeking comfort.

He flinched away, his tone harsh, "Go take some medicine. Don't come near me. I prefer sleeping alone."

I curled up on the other side of the bed, trying to console myself.

Although we slept in the same bed every night, he always turned his back to me, refusing to let me get close.

Occasionally, if I accidentally touched him, he would recoil as if encountering something disgusting.

Curious, I once asked him about it, and he claimed he was obsessive about cleanliness and wasn't used to people getting close.

But I distinctly remembered him drinking with his classmates, arm in arm, at our wedding.

Could it be that his fetish about cleanliness only acted up in front of me?

If that was really the case, why did he marry me and have sex with me during my ovulation period every month?

I felt I vaguely knew the answer, but I dared not explore it further.

4

Our marriage life felt like a routine, with me always going to bed first while he went to work in his study.

Once I was asleep, he would climb into bed in the dark to have sex with me, his rough actions causing pain.

More than once, I felt like I was being torn apart.

Yet, considering my current comfortable life, the generosity of my in-laws towards my family, and my mother-in-law's constant care, I felt I was being too greedy.

Over half a year had passed, and I still hadn't conceived.

My mother-in-law grew increasingly anxious, taking Harold and me to the hospital for check-ups.

The doctor assured us there were no issues with Harold and me, prompting my mother-in-law to urge Harold to work harder on it.

Harold agreed with a sour face, increasing the frequency of our intimate encounters, yet his actions became even rougher.

I kept reminding myself of the kindness of Harold's family, convincing myself to endure silently.

But endurance didn't bring a baby. Instead, Harold's attitude grew more impatient and cold, while my mother-in-law became more anxious, sending piles of supplements conducive to fertility to our home.

When our wedding anniversary coincided with my period of ovulation, I thought perhaps it was fate.

Tonight, I would definitely get conceived, but instead of a passionate night to have a baby, I was met with a shock.

Ethel demanded to know the source of that bottle of pills. I assured her I would handle it and ended the call.

I needed to stay calm.

A lack of interest in intimacy and poor performance during marriage didn't necessarily mean Harold was secretly gay. It could be a hidden health issue or excessive stress.

Finding the medicine bottle in Harold's pocket didn't automatically mean it belonged to him. It could be a patient's.

I couldn't wrongfully accuse Harold.

Holding the medicine bottle, I entered Harold's study without his permission for the first time.

Harold's low moans mixed with the sounds from the computer startled me. On the screen, two men were having sex, causing me to drop the medicine bottle in shock.

"Why didn't you knock before coming in?" Harold stopped his actions, glaring at me gravely.

It turned out he wasn't uninterested in having sex with me. It was just that he was uninterested in having sex with women.

If he wasn't interested in women, why did he marry me?

He married me soon after we started dating. His mother urged me to get conceived. And he only had sex with me during my period of ovulation. The details I had overlooked appeared in my mind, and I finally pieced the story together. He tricked me into marriage.

"How can you do such a thing to me!?" I shouted at him, tears welling up in my eyes uncontrollably.

"Who told you? Is it Ethel?" Harold picked up the medicine bottle from the floor and tried to grab my phone.

I refused, and he lunged at me.

I wasn't as smart or strong as him.

He kicked me in the stomach, grabbed my hair, and slammed my head against the floor. "How dare you mess with my stuff!? I'll teach you a good lesson!"

The more I struggled, the harder he slammed my head. Survival instincts made me gradually stop resisting and plead desperately, "It hurts! Please let me go."

"Will you dare disobey me again?" He forced me to look at him, holding my hair.

Blood blurred my vision, and I seemed to see a demon, "I won't. I promise."

"Women are all nuisances!" He sneered, releasing me and taking my phone.

He searched through all my social media platforms, call logs, and even photos...

Finding nothing suspicious, he finally relaxed and crouched down to wipe the blood from my face.

"Some things are better left unknown. Why can't you keep being ignorant?"

I was thankful that I had been smart for once, deleting all records before confronting him and sparing Ethel from trouble.

"Let's divorce!" Thankfully, we didn't have children yet.

"Impossible." Harold straddled me, choking me and slamming my head against the floor.