Reborn Surgeon:No Going Back

"If only… if only you hadn't saved me," my wife, Sloane, whispered with her dying breath. I spent years thinking those tears were for me.

I thought she was grieving for the toptier surgeon whose hands were permanently crushed to save her life.

I didn't know the truth until I found the worn letters stashed beneath her hospital mattress. She didn't give a damn about my ruined hands.

Her final, agonizing regret was that she never got to spend her life with her first love, Gavin. CRACK. The deafening screech of collapsing steel shattered my eardrums.

My eyes snapped open. Thick concrete dust flooded my throat, triggering a violent coughing fit. Twisted rebar and jagged rubble stretched out in every direction. I was back.

Dragged decades into the past, straight to the exact day she was buried alive. Chapter 1 The shock paralyzed my brain, but my body moved on pure instinct.

My gaze locked onto the familiar ruins ahead. The military's temporary comms post was nothing but a mangled mountain of debris. Sloane was under there.

Memories of my past life hit me like a freight train. In my previous life, I traded my hands—hands hailed as a medical miracle—to snatch Sloane back from the jaws of death.

I threw away a limitless future to become her fulltime babysitter, and all I got in return was a lifetime of cold, suffocating neglect.

She climbed to the top over the wreckage of my sacrifice, leaving me to be the laughingstock of our social circles. My legs carried me forward.

Even with the bitter taste of my past life still burning my throat, the instinct to save her was hardwired into my bones. No matter what, I had to dig her out.

I dropped to my knees on the jagged concrete and started clawing at the rubble with my bare hands. My fingernails splintered. Warm blood mixed with the thick, gray dust. "Sloane!

Sloane, hold on!" I shouted, my voice tearing. I ripped at the rocks, moving with frantic, desperate speed, numb to the agony in my fingers.

A faint voice drifted up from the darkness of the wreckage. She sounded in pain, but there was a strange, frantic edge to it. "Declan? Is that you? Get away.

Get out of here!" My hands stopped. I thought the ringing in my ears was playing tricks on me. She didn't look relieved to see me.

She shrank back into the shadows like I was the plague, her boot lashing out, trying to kick my bleeding hands away.

In the gloom of the crushed concrete, the raw disgust in her eyes was unmistakable. She wanted me to leave? I never heard those words in my past life. "It's too dangerous!

There'll be aftershocks. Leave, now!" Sloane's voice cracked, rising in pitch, laced with a panicked fury I'd never heard before. And beneath that anger… was that fear?

Chapter 2 "Shut up and save your strength!

I'm pulling you out right now!" I ignored her piercing screams, my bare hands instinctively tearing at the rebar and jagged concrete. "Don't touch me!

I told you I don't need your pity, get lost!" "Declan… I'm begging you… don't save me… please?" My hands froze. I looked up, meeting Sloane's gaze through a gap in the rubble.

Those once sharp, bright eyes were heavily bloodshot.

They were swirling with agony, pleading, and a trace of absolute despair. "I don't want… I don't want to live that life ever again…" She gasped, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

Her words hit me like a physical blow to the gut. Live that life again? What life? The decades she spent shackled to me? A creeping chill clawed its way up my spine.

Sloane had come back, too. And the thought of spending another lifetime with me was pure torture to her. The realization hit like a sledgehammer.

I stayed kneeling on the debris, my bloody hands paralyzed. "Over here! Hurry, there's someone trapped!" Another medical rescue team rushed over.

At the sound of that shout, the dull despair in Sloane's eyes ignited into a blinding spark. She pushed past her physical limits, screaming toward the approaching medics. "Dr.

Gavin! Gavin… I'm down here!" Gavin? I turned my stiff neck. A tall, handsome doctor in a pristine white coat was sprinting toward us. My jaw clamped shut so hard my teeth ached.

It was a look of feverish obsession and pure possessiveness—a look she had never once given me.

Gavin slammed into my shoulder like some sort of savior, shoving me brutally out of the way as he threw himself at the wreckage.

He didn't even spare a glance for me or my bloodsoaked hands. "Captain Sloane, hold on! We're getting you out right now!" I watched the rescue crew tear through the debris.

Within seconds, Sloane's pinned upper body was exposed. I stared at the adoration burning in her eyes, a light that blinded her to anyone else.

My chest tightened until I could barely draw a breath. Then, another violent aftershock ripped through the earth.

The ground shuddered, sending a fresh cascade of rocks tumbling from the unstable ruins above. "Watch out!" Gavin yelled, reaching out to shield her.

But in that same split second, Sloane—her lower half still completely crushed and immobilized by the concrete slab—flung her arms up.

She threw herself into the path of the falling debris, recklessly shielding the space above Gavin's head. Jagged shards of rock instantly sliced open her arm.

Warm blood dripped directly onto Gavin's face, but she acted like a fiercely protective lioness.

She gritted her teeth, shoving Gavin's head tight into her embrace, terrified he might suffer even a single scratch. I stood frozen.

In my past life, in this exact spot, a rock the exact same size had plummeted toward me as I tore my hands apart trying to dig her out. Back then, she just watched.

She called my name and told me to be careful. She never once reached out to protect me. Pure, raw instinct. It never lied. Chapter 3 "Look out!" I shouted.

The massive concrete loadbearing pillar—the exact one that had crushed my hands beyond repair in my memories—vibrated loose from the aftershocks and plummeted straight toward Gavin.

Sloane's throat tore as she screamed his name. Ignoring the agonizing threat of her pinned lower half being crushed further, her body exploded with a terrifying surge of adrenaline.

She violently twisted sideways, using her own back to shield a panicking Gavin, sealing him perfectly into a tiny, safe pocket against the rubble.

The massive slab of concrete grazed her spine as it slammed into the earth, burying them both in a blinding cloud of dust. Sloane let out a suffocated groan.

The color drained from her face until she was ashen, cold sweat pouring down her forehead. She was clearly injured far worse now.

She had literally thrown her life on the line to carve out a safe haven for him. Yet, through the pain, Sloane was smiling—a warm, fulfilled smile.

I stood frozen in the settling dust. My throat seized up. My fingernails bit so deeply into my palms that they broke the skin, a sharp sting grounding me in reality. So this was it.

Her dying regret wasn't mourning my ruined career.

Her regret was that my sacrifice forced her into a marriage she never wanted, turning me into an insurmountable wall between her and Gavin.

The man she truly wanted to spend her life with was never Declan. She only married me out of obligation because my hands were destroyed to save her.

The bitter truth slammed into my gut like a physical blow. My entire past life was nothing but a pathetic joke.

The decades of what I thought was mutual support and a happy marriage were just a suffocating shackle to her—a lifetime of missed opportunities.

I stared coldly at the tragic little melodrama playing out beneath the rubble, the blood and grime caked on my hands suddenly feeling incredibly ridiculous.

I stood up without a second of hesitation, ripped a clean strip of fabric from my torn shirt to wipe the blood from my skin, and turned my back on them to head toward the critical triage zone.

I was done playing the damn martyr.

Armed with decades of medical expertise from my past life and hands that were still perfectly intact, I took out my acupuncture needles—tools that felt both intimately familiar and foreign.

Within minutes, the skepticism of the crowd dissolved into pure shock and gratitude. They watched a seemingly scrawny young man wield the golden needles with surgical precision.

My fingers worked flawlessly, striking pressure points with lethal accuracy. Severe hemorrhages clotted within seconds. Victims convulsing in agony went still.

Even the patients clinging to their last breath stabilized under my touch. Every trace of doubt from the onlookers morphed into absolute awe. "Young man… thank you!

God, thank you!" "I was ready to die from the pain in my leg, but the second you put that needle in… it's a miracle." "Dr. Declan! Dr. Declan, my baby's fever broke!

He's sleeping peacefully." A few highranking military commanders actually stopped in their tracks, watching in utter disbelief as I pulled a critically bleeding soldier out of the danger zone in mere seconds.

In the middle of this catastrophic wasteland, I was actively snatching lives right out of the Grim Reaper's hands. I didn't stop moving.

Sweat soaked through the back of my shirt, and ash coated my face, but my eyes only burned brighter.

That longlost rush of saving lives with my own sheer skill—that surging dopamine of proving my absolute worth—shattered the lingering sting of Sloane's betrayal.

In this life, I was going to use these flawless hands to carve out my own goddamn empire. And I was going to build it for a woman who actually deserved it.

Chapter 4 The latest wave of triage finally wrapped up, giving me a brief window to breathe.

Despite everything, the deeply ingrained habits of a past life made it impossible for me to just ignore Sloane completely. I knew exactly how bad her injuries were.

Taking the full brunt of that massive concrete slab to protect Gavin meant her spine and internal organs had sustained severe trauma.

Without premium medical care, she would be left with permanent nerve damage that could nuke her entire military career.

In my past life, seeing how badly she was hurt, I scoured the disaster zone for herbs.

I endured the excruciating pain in my own crushed hands and stayed up for nights on end to synthesize my family's ancestral bonehealing ointment for her.

Back then, Sloane had stared at my heavily bandaged hands and scolded me. "Are you crazy, Declan? Do you not want your hands anymore?" This time, my hands were flawless.

Mixing the ointment was effortless. It was dusk by the time I found Sloane's temporary medical tent.

The dim, yellow glow of a kerosene lamp spilled through the canvas, carrying the low hum of an intimate conversation. "Stop calling me Captain Sloane.

It sounds too formal," Sloane's voice drifted out, laced with a gentle warmth that was a million miles away from the manic hostility she had weaponized against me earlier. "If it weren't for you, I might not have made it." "Don't say that.

Saving lives is my job. But you… it was so dangerous. Why would you throw your own body in front of a falling rock?" Gavin's voice was smooth and practiced. "I didn't even think.

I just saw the rock falling toward you, and my mind went blank. It was pure instinct.

Looking back, I'm just glad I blocked it in time." Sloane's tone dropped lower, practically humming with affection. "You're a woman, I'm a man. I should be the one protecting you.

You can't be this reckless with yourself ever again. Seeing you hurt like this, I…" "If I had to do it all over again, I'd still make the same choice," Sloane replied softly.

She'd make the same choice. So, in my past life, if I hadn't thrown myself into the danger zone first, this exact pathetic romcom would have played out anyway.

I almost laughed at my own stupidity. For decades, I thought she loved me. I thought she carried the guilt of my ruined hands to her grave.

I had even followed her into death without a second thought. I inhaled sharply, shoving the bitter taste of betrayal down my throat, and threw open the canvas flap.

The cozy conversation snapped shut. Sloane was leaning against a makeshift cot, while Gavin sat intimately close, adjusting her bandages. They both looked up.

The soft, tender glow on Sloane's face vanished instantly, freezing over into a wall of cold, guarded distance. It was a shift so fast it gave me whiplash.

Gavin narrowed his eyes, sweeping a judgmental, highly guarded glare over me. "Sloane, this is my family's ancestral ointment.

It's highly effective for mending bones, clearing contusions, and regenerating tissue. Keep it." I kept my face perfectly blank. I held out the small ceramic jar.

My fingernails were still chipped and bruised from digging through the rubble earlier, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the clay. "Take your things and get out, Declan.

My attending physician is Gavin. I forbid anyone other than him from touching me." Sloane didn't even lower her gaze to look at the priceless ceramic jar.

She turned her head away impatiently, dismissing me like she was shooing away a beggar. "Did you hear her, Dr. Declan? Stop trying to peddle your backward home remedies here.

I'm sure these things are very precious to you, so go give them to someone who actually needs them." Gavin let out a barely audible scoff from the side.

He casually picked up a roll of cheap, lowgrade gauze, staring at me with blatant provocation. I stood there, my hand suspended in the air. Dr. Declan. Someone who needs them.

Those cold words drew a brutal, absolute line in the sand, ruthlessly butchering whatever decades of history we once shared. Chapter 5 My outstretched hand hung in the air.

Pulling it back felt like a defeat; keeping it there was just pathetic. A hot, uncontrollable flush crept up my neck. My good intentions had been ripped up and stomped on.

A cold, sharp fury pierced through the initial humiliation as I realized how desperate she was to draw a line in the sand.

From the corner of my eye, I could feel Gavin's gaze—a sickening mix of fake pity and the smug, evaluating stare of a victor.

I silently pulled my hand back, my fingers curling tightly around the cool ceramic jar. "Sorry for the intrusion." I turned on my heel and strode out of the tent, desperate to escape the suffocating air inside. "He meant well.

You didn't have to be so harsh…" Gavin's smooth, practiced voice drifted through the canvas flap behind me. "His 'good intentions' just make me sick.

I absolutely cannot let him get any ridiculous delusions in his head and start clinging to us like a pathetic stalker." Sloane's reply was sharp, clear, and dripping with venom.

I didn't stick around to hear the rest. In this new life, I was nothing but a stalker to her. But the disaster zone didn't give me time to bleed.

Piercing whistles and frantic screams cut through the night, demanding my attention. The second I snapped my medical kit shut, a desperate shout echoed from the triage line. "Dr.

Declan! Dr. Declan, over here! We have a kid with a ruptured aorta!" "Coming!" I swiped a layer of grime from my jaw and sprinted toward the chaos without a second thought.

Shortly after I left, Sloane's severe injuries caught up with her.

Her father, a highranking commander terrified his precious only daughter might suffer permanent damage, pulled every string he had to medevac her back to the pristine, toptier military hospital in the city.

At her explicit request, headquarters gave Gavin special clearance to escort her.

As the military chopper carrying Sloane and Gavin lifted off into the night sky, I was on my knees in the mud, meticulously operating on a soldier whose leg was impaled by jagged rebar.

Sweat dripped from my temples, mixing with the blood and ash caking my skin, but I didn't even blink. "Doctor… I'm fine. Go save the others first," the female soldier gritted out.

Her voice was trembling violently, but her eyes were rock solid. I ruthlessly pinned her thrashing shoulders to the dirt.

My golden needles flashed like lightning, striking several major pressure points. The terrifying arterial spray stopped instantly.

A collective gasp echoed from the surrounding medics. "There are other doctors for the other places," I said, without even looking up. "Is my leg… is it gone?" she whispered. "Don't panic.

Trust me. You are keeping this leg.

Since I got these hands back, I'm going to squeeze every ounce of absolute value out of them." My hands moved in a flawless blur, securing the final needles to lock down the hemorrhage.

Drowning in the endless chaos and the constant chorus of "Thank you, Dr. Declan," the hollow, agonizing crater Sloane left in my chest slowly began to fill.

It stretched, calloused over, and turned to steel. There were too many lives bleeding out in front of me.

This was my battlefield. "Declan… you are an absolute force of nature," an old, decorated general commended, stopping just to watch me work while my hands were stained crimson.

I just gave him a curt nod. I was going to violently claw back every single regret from my past life.

After weeks of brutal, relentless grinding, the disaster zone finally stabilized. The threat faded, and the rescue forces prepared to roll out in victory.

Chapter 6 I stood on the podium, the military commendation heavy and cold against my chest. "Specialist Declan has shown the true spirit of a combat medic, risking his own life to save others in the face of total devastation," the commander's voice boomed across the square.

The applause was deafening—a physical wave of sound that hit me square in the chest. I gripped the medal, the red ribbon fluttering in the wind.

In my past life, I was always the one looking up from the shadows, watching others take the spotlight while I played the role of a supportive husband. Now, the glory was mine.

This light was finally shining on me. Back at the military hospital, the atmosphere was different. The nurses whispered in corners, their voices dropping the second I walked by.

I caught snippets—Sloane and Gavin, their sudden, intense closeness. I kept my face like stone, acting like I didn't hear a word.

I found myself standing outside Sloane's private suite.

My hand was inches from the wood when the voices from inside made me freeze. "…I heard Declan got a commendation from the regional command," Gavin said.

His voice was thin, lulled by a bitterness he couldn't quite mask. "If I hadn't come back early to look after you, maybe I would have…" "Don't go there," Sloane interrupted.

Her voice was warm, a sharp contrast to the ice she usually reserved for me. "Your talent doesn't need a scrap of metal to prove it.

Trust me, I'm going to make sure you stand much higher than him. You'll have glory that actually means something." I felt my fingers curl into a tight fist.

My jaw tightened until it throbbed. "But it's a regional commendation…" Gavin sounded unconvinced. "You want honors?

Once I'm back on my feet, I'll go out to the training grounds and win them for you myself.

My man is going to stand on the highest podium, where everyone can see exactly who you are." Sloane let out a low, husky laugh. "I'm a man, Sloane.

I'm not going to let my woman fight my battles for me," Gavin murmured, though he sounded satisfied, his ego sufficiently stroked. "When I'm better… will you marry me?" I realized I had stayed too long.

I lowered my hand, turning to walk away from the sickening display of domestic bliss. "Who's at the door?" Sloane's voice snapped out, sharp and predatory. I stopped.

There was no point in running. I pushed the door open just enough to reveal myself. "It's me. Declan." The temperature in the room plummeted.

Gavin looked uncomfortable for a split second before masking it with a smug, proprietary stance.

Sloane's expression was the worst part—the warmth she'd just shared with Gavin evaporated, replaced by a cold, clinical distance that made my skin crawl. "Specialist Declan," she said, her voice flat. "Is there a reason you're lurking?" Specialist Declan.

Not Declan. Not even a hint of the history we shared. Just a rank and a name. "I came to check the status of your injury," I said, keeping my voice devoid of emotion.

I stepped into the room, my eyes tracking the way she was leaning. "That hit you took from the pillar wasn't just a surface wound.

Your spine and internal organs took a massive kinetic shock." "If you don't treat it correctly now, you're looking at permanent nerve damage.

Down the line, your career—" "Thank you for the 'concern,'" Sloane cut me off, her tone dripping with boredom. "But my recovery is going perfectly. Gavin is a brilliant surgeon.

I trust him implicitly." "Sloane, this isn't about Gavin's 'brilliance.' My family's medical techniques are specifically designed for this kind of internal trauma.

Let me examine you. I might be able to—" I didn't move. Chapter 7 "Enough, Declan!" Sloane slapped my hand away.

She looked at me like I was a piece of rotting trash. "Gavin is my official fiancé. Drop this pathetic stalking and stay the hell away from me.

Don't make him sick by hanging around us!" The sting on the back of my hand was nothing compared to the absolute venom in her voice.

We had grown up in the same military compound, but right now, she was slicing through decades of history without a second thought. "I know my own body," she spat, not giving me a chance to speak. "I trust my future husband.

If anything goes wrong, I'll take the consequences." Her future husband. She would take the consequences.

The problem was, I knew she couldn't afford them. "Sloane, our families go way back," I said, keeping my voice deadpan. "I'm only here because I know exactly what kind of internal damage that concrete did.

My family's medical techniques—" "Save your breath." Sloane crossed her arms, her patience entirely evaporated. "I said I know my body.

I've only ever seen you as a little brother anyway, and you're not even blood." "If you have so much free time, Specialist Declan, go play doctor with the other grunts.

I have Gavin. Now get out. I need to rest." I stared at the absolute disgust etched onto her face, then glanced at Gavin, who was smirking quietly in the corner.

I swallowed the rest of my warnings, turned on my heel, and walked out