My Boyfriend's Intern

In my previous life, I was Blair Scott, an attending physician in the cardiac surgery department at No.1 Hospital. After five years of practicing medicine without a single error, my colleagues hailed me as a top doctor. Tim Shawn was my boyfriend and the deputy director of our department. We had been together for three years, and both our parents had already met—we were just waiting to register our marriage at the end of the year. Vivian Lincoln was an intern under Tim Shawn. She had graduated from medical school just six months earlier and clung to Tim's side every day. I never took Vivian seriously until the coronary artery bypass surgery on Ms. Rachel Wade. Tim said he wanted to craft Vivian's image as a prodigious young genius by letting her take the lead on that surgery. I hesitated. Rachel's condition was complex, and Vivian hadn't even mastered independent suturing yet. But Tim Shawn said I should support Vivian Lincoln and that he would be by her side watching the entire time. I trusted his words and believed that Vivian might be able to seize the opportunity. But I never expected that the moment the surgery opened her chest, Vivian's phone would ring. She said over the call that her pet dog had broken its leg and was waiting at the veterinary hospital. Vivian didn't even take off her gloves; she abandoned Rachel Wade lying on the operating table with her chest still open and ran away. I was desperate to rush forward and continue the surgery, but Tim Shawn grabbed me tightly. He said, "Vivian needs this surgery to secure her formal appointment; you can't ruin her chance." I had no choice but to call Vivian Lincoln, begging her to come back quickly. On the other end, Vivian's tone was indifferent: "Rachel Wade isn't going to die anytime soon; my dog is bleeding badly." I watched Rachel Wade's breath weaken on the operating table, tears threatening to fall. But Tim Shawn firmly blocked me, refusing to let me touch the surgical instruments. In the end, Rachel Wade died a painful death on the operating table due to anesthetic failure and excessive blood loss. What shattered me even more was when I later discovered that Rachel Wade was Calvin Luke's wife. Calvin Luke kills without hesitation, yet he has spoiled Rachel Wade like a precious treasure. When Tim Shawn learned the truth, his first reaction was not guilt but to shift all the blame onto me. He told Calvin Luke's men, "It was Blair Scott's surgical error, nothing to do with me or Vivian Lincoln." I didn't even get a chance to defend myself before Calvin Luke's men tied me to a helicopter. They threw me from the sky again and again; I could feel my bones shatter inch by inch until I was crushed into a pulp. In the last second before losing consciousness, my mind was filled with hatred—hatred for Tim Shawn's selfishness, hatred for Vivian Lincoln's coldness, and an even deeper hatred for my own foolishness. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself standing in the corridor outside the department. A familiar voice reached my ears with an undeniable tone: "Blair Scott, have Vivian lead Rachel Wade's surgery." It was Tim Shawn. I spun around and saw Vivian Lincoln standing beside him, her face marked by a shy yet expectant smile. The surroundings and colleagues' conversations were exactly the same as that day in my previous life. I have been reborn. Reborn before the tragedy unfolded. Vivian Lincoln immediately stepped forward, reaching out to grab my arm. The moment her fingers brushed my sleeve, I jerked away as if shocked. "I disagree." My voice was colder than I anticipated, laced with the lingering hatred from my past life. "Rachel Wade is my patient, I am her attending physician, and I am responsible for her life." Vivian froze for a moment; her eyes instantly reddened. She looked at Tim with a hurt expression, "Tim, did I do something to upset Blair?" Tim Shawn's face darkened, his voice dripping with menace: "Blair, Vivian is my friend. She needs this surgery as a stepping stone." Those words were identical to those in my past life.