My son, Anders Tate, has been lying in the operating room for an hour, but the surgery hasn't started yet.

This is the eighth time I've pressed the call button for Larry Tate tonight.

Fortunately, he finally picked up this time.

"Larry! You still have a surgery to do, and I'm now..."

"Summer Cooper, are you done causing trouble?"

I was suddenly taken aback; his tone was so unfamiliar.

"Since you returned home, what kind of trouble has Katie Baker suffered because of you?"

"Today is her birthday. I came to apologize on your behalf; can't you be a little understanding?"

Larry Tate continued his tirade, hanging up the phone before I could respond.

Since returning home, I've lost count of how many times I've heard that name from him.

Katie Baker, a nurse.

The first time I heard about her was through a mutual friend.

He brought Katie Baker to our high school reunion, claiming he was helping an intern nurse build her confidence.

How ironic.

They all said Katie Baker looked like me, that she must be my substitute.

But after coming back, I increasingly felt that Larry Tate loved her, not me.

I sighed and calmly put away my phone.

"Please help us switch to another doctor for the surgery."

The nurse at the front desk looked surprised by this request.

"We're short-staffed; Dr. Tate is the best doctor we have. The others are interns who have assisted Dr. Tate a few times, and doing the surgery alone may not be reliable. How about... you wait a little longer?"

"No need, I want to change doctors. I will take responsibility for all consequences."

I almost immediately refused; I knew I couldn't wait for Larry Tate any longer.

When he chose to stay by Katie Baker's side, despite knowing Anders was hurt and needed him for the surgery, it was clear we were done.

These ten years felt so light; a gust of wind could blow them all away.

Larry Tate and I were high school sweethearts.

After the college entrance exam, I chose to study abroad, while he was admitted to a good medical university in China.

Later, during every brief reunion, he would look at me and say, "I'll wait for you."

His gaze was firm and sincere.

In that moment, he said it.

I believed it.

It was also during college that I had our child.

I proposed marriage, and he said he wasn't ready yet.

I believed that too.

"Excuse me, which one of you is the patient's family member?"

"I am."

Hearing the response, a nurse who had just come out of the department ran to my side.

Then she whispered quietly to me.

In an instant, the gloom in my heart was dispelled, and I immediately agreed.

Anders could finally have his surgery.