The ER Chief’s Pursuit of His Wife

Chapter 1

Ever since Claire Winters saw the unsent Instagram story on Adrian Cole’s phone, it was like she became someone else.

When he worked the night shift until dawn, the house stopped leaving a light on for him.

When he spent twelve hours straight in the OR, she no longer texted to ask if he was tired.

When a hint of unfamiliar perfume clung to his shirt, she didn’t press him for answers.

Even when a sudden case of acute gastroenteritis hit in the middle of the night and she drove herself to the ER, the nurse asked softly, “No one came with you?”

Claire’s face was drained of color as she said, “I don’t have anyone.”

The nurse lowered her head to type, then looked up again. “You’re Dr. Cole’s girlfriend, right? I saw you at the hospital gala. He’s on call tonight and he’s upstairs. Want me to page him?”

Adrian Cole was the youngest chief of surgery at this hospital. Claire hadn’t expected to be recognized.

“No.” Claire closed her eyes. “Don’t pull him away from work.”

The nurse hesitated like she wanted to say more, then placed her in an observation room.

Half an hour later, the door pushed open.

Adrian came in wearing a crisp white coat. By pure habit, he reached out and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, frowning slightly. “You’re sick, why didn’t you call me?”

His palm was warm, a touch she knew by heart.

In the past, even a small headache would ease under that warmth, and she could finally fall asleep.

Claire turned her head and slipped out from under his hand. “It’s just gastroenteritis. An IV and some meds will do, it’s not a big deal.”

Her tone was so flat it sounded like she was talking about the weather.

Adrian’s hand stalled in midair. This wasn’t the Claire he knew.

The Claire he knew would hide in his arms during thunderstorms and whisper that she was scared.

She’d sit on the couch with reddened eyes if he came home half an hour late.

Even a tiny cut on her finger used to earn his full attention, she’d hold it out, waiting for him to blow on it and stick on a bandage.

But now sweat dotted her forehead, her lips were pale, and she didn’t even let out a small sound.

Adrian opened his mouth to speak, then the hallway voices drifted closer and cut him off.

“Dr. Cole is really attentive to Ms. Quinn in the VIP suite. It’s only an appendectomy, but he did it himself, and he’s in there every day after, checking on her for ages.”

“I heard Ms. Quinn is his mentor’s daughter. Didn’t they date years ago?”

“No wonder he treats her differently. It’s past eleven, he probably just went up to see her again.”

Their footsteps faded, leaving behind an awkward, sudden quiet.

Adrian’s expression shifted.

“Don’t listen to gossip like that,” he said, almost on instinct, turning to Claire. “Charlotte is my mentor’s daughter. Before he passed, he asked me to look after her. She has no one in Seattle. As her doctor, I have to pay extra attention.”

“Okay,” Claire said.

That was it, nothing more.

For some reason, it scraped at Adrian’s nerves. “You don’t believe me?”

“I do.” Claire finally looked at him, her eyes still as a windless lake. “You’ve always been a responsible doctor. Taking care of a patient is what you’re supposed to do.”

Adrian froze, suddenly out of words.

Back then, he’d hated how anxious she could be. He’d explain with a sharp edge, “Charlotte and I are in the past. Now she’s just my mentor’s daughter. Can you stop being so sensitive?”

Now Claire gave him exactly what he’d demanded, calm, trusting, no questions.

And yet his chest felt stuffed with cotton, heavy, suffocating.

Something was wrong. The feeling was all wrong.

His frown deepened as he was about to speak, when a dull thud sounded outside the door.

Charlotte Quinn stood there gripping her IV pole, her face white as paper. A thin smear of red stained the hem of her gown where blood had backed up in the line.

“Adrian,” she said, biting her lip, her voice weak, “the nurse told me Ms. Winters was here…”

“Why are you out of bed?” Adrian hurried over to steady her, his tone scolding but full of concern. “I told you you needed to stay in bed.”

Charlotte leaned into him, trembling. “I was worried about Claire. I wanted to come check on her…”

Adrian sighed, helpless, then lifted Charlotte into his arms. He looked back at Claire and said, “I’ll get her back to her room. I’ll be right back to stay with you.”

He carried Charlotte out, and the white light at the end of the hall swallowed his silhouette.

Claire slowly looked away and stared at the IV taped to the back of her hand. Her mind went back to that story Adrian never posted.

The caption read, [Staying by your side, it feels like going back to before.]

That was when Claire finally understood. Somewhere deep down, Adrian had never truly let Charlotte go.

She swallowed the sharp pain in her chest, picked up her phone, and opened the unread email.

She replied, [I have read the email carefully. I am willing to accept the three-year photography field assignment in Kenya. Claire Winters.]

　　

Chapter 2

By the time the IV finished dripping, the sky had already started to pale.

Adrian never came back.

Claire pressed the call button herself, had the nurse remove the needle, and declined the suggestion to stay for observation.

She walked alone through the empty hallway.

The sharp scent of disinfectant hit her, and suddenly she was pulled years back, another hospital, another cold, early morning.

Back then, she had been there with her mom for chemo.

After her mom fell asleep, Claire had crouched in the stairwell and cried until her chest hurt, not daring to make a sound.

She buried her face in her knees, her shoulders shaking so hard she could barely breathe.

Then a clean, long-fingered hand appeared in her line of sight, offering a small pack of tissues.

She looked up and saw Adrian in a white coat.

His features were calm, his voice gentle. “Don’t cry. Your mom’s going to be okay.”

That was the first time she met him, and she never forgot that voice, or those eyes.

Later, after her mom passed away, Claire went through her things and found a note tucked under a pillow.

It had a phone number on it, and a short line beside it, [If you ever need help, call this number. Adrian Cole.]

She never called.

But she kept the note folded carefully in the inner pocket of her wallet.

The second time she saw him was at a get-together a friend had organized.

Adrian sat in the darkest corner of a booth, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his wire-frame glasses resting on the table.

He drank alone, like the noise around him had nothing to do with him.

Her friend nudged her forward. “That’s Dr. Cole. He’s single too. Go talk to him.”

When Claire stepped closer, Adrian happened to look up.

The moment their eyes met, his gaze flickered, just once.

“Have we met before?” he asked.

Claire pulled the yellowed note from her wallet.

Adrian stared at it for a long time, long enough that she thought he might not remember that morning at all.

Then he finally said softly, “It was you. You still kept this?”

“Yeah,” Claire murmured. “Back then, thank you.”

That night, he drove her home.

In the car, he spoke like it had been on his mind the whole way. “Claire Winters, do you want to be with me?”

Her heart slammed so hard it felt like it might break through her ribs.

She held herself back and asked, “Why, so suddenly?”

“I just think you’re a good person.” He paused, then added, “And you like me, don’t you?”

She did.

From that first meeting, she had felt something different toward him.

And that small note, when she was at her lowest, had been like a sliver of light she could hold onto.

Later, she found out why he had been drinking alone that night.

He had just been dumped.

Charlotte had ended it.

She was leaving the country for school and decided long-distance wasn’t worth it, so she cut things off clean.

Charlotte walked away without looking back, and Adrian’s quiet, desperate attempts to keep her didn’t change a thing.

Claire wasn’t naive.

She understood that when he started something new back then, it wasn’t because he couldn’t live without her.

He needed someone to help him move on from a relationship that had ended without closure.

Even so, she still said yes.

She kept believing that if she gave enough, love would come back to her in full.

If she loved him well enough, someday he would truly let Charlotte go, and she would be the only person he saw.

For four years, Adrian was, by any standard, a solid boyfriend.

He remembered every food she avoided, tracked her cycle, never missed her birthday or their anniversary.

The gifts were always thoughtful, the restaurants always booked, everything arranged down to the smallest detail.

Her friends envied her.

They said a man as attentive as Adrian was basically a unicorn.

Claire believed it too.

She thought she had finally found her way into his heart.

Then, a month ago, Charlotte came back.

One phone call, her voice shaking with tears, she said her father was critically ill and she was alone at the hospital.

After that, everything changed.

Adrian started coming home later and later after work.

That unfamiliar perfume showed up again and again.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Charlotte would call, saying she’d dreamed about her late father and couldn’t stop crying.

Adrian would grab a jacket and rush out.

Because of Charlotte, the arguments came more often.

Claire hated what she was turning into, anxious, bitter, always on edge.

She’d despise herself for it, then still end up looking at him with red-rimmed eyes and asking, “After all these years, have you really not gotten over her?”

And he grew more impatient every time.

He blamed her for being suspicious, said he was only looking after Charlotte because of the promise he made to his mentor before he died.

For a while, Claire even wondered if he was right.

Maybe she really was overreacting.

Until the day she accidentally saw it.

The unsent story draft sitting on his phone.

In that instant, her whole world cracked.

It hurt so badly she could hardly breathe, and somehow, that was exactly why she stopped fighting.

She didn’t argue.

She didn’t cry.

She just went quiet, and finally, completely gave up.

Chapter 3

When Claire got home, the morning was already bright.

The house was quiet, the same way it had been when she left for the ER.

Then her phone rang in her pocket.

“Ms. Winters,” a capable female voice said, “we need final confirmation on the three-year Kenya wildlife photography field program. Are you absolutely sure? Conditions out in the field can be rough, and you’ll be away from friends and family for a long time.”

Claire tightened her grip on the phone. “I’m sure.”

“Alright. We’ll take care of your visa. We just need a few documents from you. Your departure date is set for the fifth of next month. Does that work for you?”

The fifth of next month, only about two weeks away.

“It works,” she said.

After the call ended, Claire let her gaze drift over every corner of the room.

She had built this home piece by piece.

Four years ago, when she moved in, it had been bare, just the basics.

She’d fussed over everything, the curtain color, the couch style, the plants lining the balcony, her own photographs framed on the walls.

She used to believe this would be her forever home with Adrian, that they would live here for years and years.

Now she wouldn’t be here much longer.

Claire pulled out a suitcase and started packing.

She was halfway through when the front door opened.

Adrian stood in the doorway. His eyes landed on the open suitcase and he stopped short. “What are you doing?”

Claire paused for a beat, then spoke like it was nothing. “Nothing. The house has gotten cluttered. I haven’t cleaned things out in a while, so I’m sorting through what we don’t use and tossing what we don’t need.”

Adrian studied her calm face, then the piles she’d pulled out, and that uneasy feeling rose again.

Just tossing things they didn’t need?

He was about to ask more when his phone rang.

The ringtone was different.

His expression shifted slightly. He picked it up and walked out to the balcony.

“Yeah, I just got home. What’s wrong?”

Claire kept packing her gear case, acting like she didn’t hear a thing.

From the balcony, Adrian’s lowered voice came in broken pieces.

“Your incision hurts? You think it’s inflamed… don’t panic. I’ll come take a look right now… okay, I hear you. Lie down and don’t move around.”

When he hung up, he came back in, his face a little complicated.

Claire had just finished wiping down her last lens. She was carefully placing each one into a hard protective case.

She looked up and smiled. “What is it? Something at the hospital?”

“It’s Charlotte,” Adrian said, hesitating. “She says her incision suddenly started hurting. It might be infected. I need to go check on her.”

Claire looked at him and, for a moment, felt like she’d failed at something.

Four years. More than a thousand days and nights of showing up, of giving, and she still couldn’t earn a man’s whole heart.

She nodded, her voice light. “Then go. An infection isn’t something you wait on.”

She was too calm, so calm it made his stomach drop.

“Claire, I…”

“Go,” Claire said, already standing, zipping the camera case shut. “She needs you the most right now. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Adrian suddenly felt like the woman in front of him was a stranger.

The old Claire, if she heard he was going to see Charlotte, would have teared up and asked, “You just got back from the hospital. Aren’t there other doctors? Does it really have to be you?”

Now she only smiled, even reminded him to hurry so Charlotte wouldn’t have to wait.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Adrian said, forcing down the wrongness in his chest. “Let’s have lunch together, alright? We’ll try that new Japanese place you’ve been wanting.”

Claire smiled. “Sure. If you get held up, that’s fine too. I’ll figure it out.”

Adrian opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, but in the end he didn’t.

He turned and walked out of the bedroom.

Claire stood still and listened as the car engine started outside, then faded into the distance.

Then she went back to packing.

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