CHAPTER 33
Beth could see God’s hand at work in her personal life—from the sweet moment she and Bryce shared when he made good on his baby celebration promise, arriving home with pink and blue cupcakes and the softest white baby blanket she’d ever felt, to the encouragement they received at church, where some of the families came together to throw them a small bridal shower (the “Plastics,” as Lynn had started calling them, were notably absent)—life at home had grown idyllic.
But work? That was becoming harder to face with every passing day.
Crystal was relentless.
What started as sharp glances and biting comments had morphed into a full-blown military offensive. She’d begun picking up shifts—always the ones Bryce worked without Beth. Always at her most smug when she slid onto the hospital in lip gloss, tight scrubs, and an attitude like she owned the place.
Beth could handle passive-aggressive barbs—most of them, at least. But Crystal didn’t stop there.
One morning, Beth found a sticky note pressed to her locker.
?Hope he doesn’t snore as much
as he used to!?
The next day, her name on the break room schedule board had been erased and rewritten in bubble letters as Mrs. Right-Now?
Beth stared at it, stunned. Across the hall, Crystal leaned against the counter, smirking, tapping a marker against her chin like she was proud of her masterpiece.
Then there was the patient incident.
Beth saw Crystal exit a room, eyes red-rimmed, wiping away tears. Instinctively, Beth moved to comfort her.
“The patient was… awful,” Crystal choked out. “Said some horrible things. I just… I can’t go back in. Could you—just this once—handle the follow-up?” Beth nodded, heart soft, and stepped into the room.
What awaited Beth inside the room was a verbal assault.
The patient was furious. They called Beth a homewrecker, claiming they’d heard all about how she had “slept with that other poor nurse’s husband and left their children fatherless.”
Beth tried to respond or redirect but it was no use. The patient raged on.
By the time she discharged them, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes burned. Crystal was there, just outside the door, reapplying her mascara. Smug. Silent. Victorious.
Later that same week, Beth was asked—by the charge nurse—to assist with the discharge of one of Crystal’s patients. Twice. Both times were landmines. Charts were misfiled. Meds hadn’t been ordered. The families were irate, and somehow, Crystal managed to lay the blame at Beth’s feet.
Even when they weren’t scheduled together, Crystal found ways to get under her skin.
Some of the other nurses started wearing little enamel pins shaped like wedding rings. The glittery pins read #TeamCrystal. Beth tried to tell herself it wasn’t a reference to their marriage and that she was being paranoid.
But then Mae brushed past her one afternoon, bumping her shoulder—intentionally—and muttered, “We all liked him better when he treated you like the wallflower you are.” Mae tapped the pin on her scrub top and walked off.
Beth didn’t respond. What was there to say?
She’d tried everything she knew to do—tried to be kind—but never in her life had Beth found herself in a situation like this.
The gossip. The stares. The half-smiles with daggers behind them.
It was surreal. Beth had once considered many of her co-workers friends.
According to the rumors, she had seduced Bryce—poor, golden-boy Bryce—and stolen him off the market.
The nurses who had once cautioned her about his playboy ways now acted as if she had corrupted him.
No one confronted Beth outright—every jab could be spun as a joke. Every cruel setup, twisted into a misunderstanding. If Beth spoke up, she risked sounding paranoid, too sensitive, or petty.
The one time Bryce tried to address it—calmly, directly—with Crystal, it only made things worse. She played innocent, wide-eyed, wounded. Then, the moment he walked away, she doubled down. It was like handing her a fresh can of gasoline for the flamethrower she had trained on Beth.
In the end, they decided it was better not to engage. They would try to survive until their upcoming time off for the wedding and pray things would blow over by the time they returned.
By the end of her last shift, Beth was running on fumes, caffeine, and prayer.
She hadn’t cried at work in a week—but she was dangerously close to losing it.
After locking herself in the supply closet just to breathe, she managed to hold it together until shift change. Kim was working the oncoming shift, and one look at Beth’s face told the story of her day. Moving to hug her, she stopped when Beth quickly shook her head no.
“I don’t want to cry here,” Beth whispered. “I just want to go home.” Kim squeezed her friend’s fingers.
“Get out of here. I’ll finish up anything you didn’t get done and see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Beth mouthed the words before grabbing her stuff and speed-walking toward the exit.
Once out the door, she jogged to the staff lot, relishing the chance to breathe fresh air. As she reached the edge of the lot, she scanned for her Jeep—and stopped. It was gone.
Her breath caught until memory clicked into place.
She and Bryce had carpooled that morning.
She stopped in the middle of the lot, completely still. The sounds around her—cars pulling out, doors slamming, someone laughing far off—swirled past her like background noise.
Bryce was in a meeting for another hour or two and she didn’t have keys.
Beth stared at the hospital. The thought of going back in through the staff entrance made her physically nauseous. She was torn between the longing to hide and the desire not to cower. Straightening her shoulders, Beth headed for the main entrance.
Most employees didn’t use it. If she walked fast enough, she might make it to Bryce’s office without running into anyone. Two hours. Then she was off for two and a half weeks. Mercifully, the halls were quiet. No Crystal. No stares. Just the steady echo of her footsteps.
She let herself into Bryce’s office—and froze.
Crystal was reclining on his couch. In lingerie.
Beth stared, too stunned to speak.
Crystal stood slowly, hands smoothing her hair as she feigned surprise and just the right amount of embarrassment.
“Oh, Beth, honey! I’m so sorry you had to find out this way! I thought you’d gone home,” she cooed.
“Find out?” Beth repeated, still stunned.
“Yes—about Brycie and me,” Crystal said, syrupy sweet.
“I told him hooking up in here was too risky, but you know how he loves a thrill. He’s in the bathroom getting dressed.
” She sighed, placing a hand on her chest. “You poor thing. I’ll tell him you want to talk at home. No need for drama here at work.”
She stepped forward, arms open, like she meant to hug Beth or usher her out the door.
Beth raised a hand, halting her.
“Do. Not. Touch. Me.”
She didn’t raise her voice, but the words cracked like a whip and Crystal froze.
“Enough.” Beth still held her hand out, palm facing Crystal, then used her finger in a slow, deliberate sweep over Crystal’s body. “This little performance? You can stop now. It won’t work.”
She paused, letting the words settle in the air.
“I don’t care what you had with Bryce. I don’t care what game you’re playing.
We’re done. He is my husband. Not yours.
Whatever you thought this was—or hoped it could be—it’s over.
” She said each word with an unshakable calm.
She walked to the bathroom and opened the door without looking inside. She already knew—he wasn’t in there.
Then Beth bent and retrieved Crystal’s discarded scrubs next to the couch. She tossed them at her, voice calm but commanding—filled with a confidence Crystal never imagined she possessed.
“Get dressed. We both know you’re not sleeping with my husband.”
Crystal scrambled to pull her clothes on, never taking her eyes off Beth, unsure if she might lash out.
Goodness knows, if the roles were reversed, I probably would’ve. Crystal thought.
“And Crystal—if you ever pull another stunt like this or keep playing the games you’ve been playing since we announced our marriage, it won’t only be me you’re dealing with.” Beth took a step forward. Her voice wasn’t raised, but it carried weight.
“I will file harassment charges. You want to keep your job? Your license? Stay out of his office. Stay away from us.”
Crystal nodded, glancing feverishly around. She grabbed her shoes and scurried to the door, not bothering to put them on.
Beth watched her flee. In that moment, she heard it—that quiet conviction she’d ignored in Vegas.
She exhaled, heart full.
Lord, I won’t ignore You again.
As Crystal’s fingers wrapped around the doorknob, Beth spoke—not with the commanding tone she’d used moments earlier, but with a voice that was quieter. Warmer. Compassionate.
“Wait.”