Woman Donates Kidney To Save Boyfriend’s Life—After the Surgery He Breaks Up With Her

She waited another day. Then another. Her phone lit up a dozen times—news alerts, group chats, delivery confirmations—but never his name.

The silence became a wall. Heavy. Measured. Intentional.

Finally, one morning, unable to take the weight of it any longer, Maya dressed, hailed a cab, and rode to the hospital where he had worked.

At the front desk, she kept her voice steady. “Hi. I’m looking for Aiden Carter. He used to work here—nurse, tall, brown hair?”

The receptionist gave her a polite smile, fingers poised above the keyboard.

“Let me check.”

The receptionist didn’t even flinch. “He’s currently on sabbatical. Took medical leave after a major surgery.”

Maya’s heart twisted sharply. “Oh. Is he… is he doing alright?”

The woman smiled with practiced politeness. “As far as we know. He’s recovering at home. With his wife.”

Maya froze. She must have misheard. “Sorry… did you say wife?”

“Yes,” the receptionist replied, still unfazed. “He’s on extended leave, staying out of the city for a while.”

The word echoed in Maya’s skull like a dropped stone. Wife.

Her voice dropped. “Could I get his address?”

The receptionist shook her head with polite finality. “I’m sorry. We can’t share employee information.”

Outside, Maya stumbled into the cold air and leaned against the nearest pillar. Her legs felt like rubber. Her hands shook.

Wife?

She reached for her phone, fingers trembling, and typed:

You’re married? Were you married the whole time? How could you do this to me?

She hit send, her breath catching. Then another:

I gave you part of my body. My future. You disappeared like I was nothing. What the hell is wrong with you?

Send.

No typing bubbles. No reply.

Just her reflection, ghostlike in the glass of the hospital doors. Pale. Staring. Hollow.

She rode the metro home in silence. No music, no notifications. Just the sound of the train and the weight in her chest growing heavier.

Back in her apartment, she didn’t even take off her shoes. She sat on the edge of the bed for hours, the TV glowing quietly in the background, her thoughts looping in jagged, disjointed circles.

Who would believe her?

She had loved him—or at least believed in what they were building.

And he’d vanished with her kidney.

That night, she barely slept. Her body throbbed in protest, but it wasn’t the surgical pain that kept her up. It was the betrayal. The humiliation. The disbelief.

By morning, she barely recognized herself in the mirror. Thinner. Paler. Eyes ringed with exhaustion. But under the hollow look, something steeled.

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Storhook Team

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