I waited until the door closed behind them before I touched the folder.
The divorce papers sat there like a threat.
Or maybe a gift.
The nurse glanced at me nervously. “Are you alright, Mrs. Cole?”
“No,” I said honestly. “But I will be.”
A few minutes later, the transplant coordinator entered my room carrying a tablet. She smiled politely.
“Before we proceed, we need your final consent.”
I looked directly at her.
“I withdraw it.”
The room went silent.
“I’m sorry?” she asked.
“I am not donating my kidney.”
The coordinator nodded immediately. “That’s your legal right. No one can pressure you into organ donation.”
Pressure.
That word almost made me laugh.
Outside the room, voices erupted.
Ethan.
Margaret.
The woman in the red dress.
The coordinator stepped into the hallway, and within seconds I heard Ethan shouting.
“What do you mean she withdrew consent?”
“Mr. Cole,” the coordinator replied firmly, “the decision belongs entirely to her.”
The door burst open.
Ethan’s face was red with anger.
“You can’t do this.”
“Actually,” I said calmly, “I just did.”
Margaret looked horrified.
“You promised.”
“No,” I replied. “I was manipulated.”
The woman in red crossed her arms.
“You’re really going to let an old woman die because you’re jealous?”
I stared at her.
“Jealous?”
Then I looked at Ethan.
“You brought your mistress to the hospital while demanding my organ and handing me divorce papers.”
Neither of them had an answer.
For the first time, I saw uncertainty creep into Ethan’s eyes.
Then I delivered the part he never expected.
“Three weeks ago, the genetics team discovered something unusual during my screening.”
Margaret frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“My kidney isn’t a routine match.”
The room grew quiet.
“The doctors found a rare genetic profile. They’ve been studying it.”
Ethan scoffed.
