Affair Cost Her the Baby

In the third week of my pregnancy, my husband fell for a woman who had been a family friend since childhood. They carried on their affair in the nursery I had lovingly prepared for our child. When I found them, she had the nerve to smirk and say, "Oh, Mikayla, don't get the wrong idea. We were just catching up."

Rage coursed through me, and I felt warmth trickling down my legs. She had the audacity to claim that my health issues were bringing bad luck, and she poured a bucket of so-called holy water over me.

My husband, Ashton, called me an embarrassment and forbade me from leaving the house for Thanksgiving dinner. He locked me inside while he spent the night with her. When he returned, he was furious upon seeing my miscarriage report.

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On Valentine's Day, I was buying chocolates when I realized I had picked up the wrong phone. As I was about to head home, I saw a message from one of Ashton's friends: "You've really outdone yourself, Ashton! What a plan to get Mikayla out of the way."

I chuckled, thinking Ashton had planned a surprise for me. But when I rushed home, my joy turned to devastation. The living room was littered with pistachio shells, and the air was thick with cigar smoke.

Zoe, Ashton's so-called childhood friend, was provocatively straddling him, a piece of tissue paper dangling from her lips, and they gazed into each other's eyes in a sickeningly sweet manner. She wore nothing but a bright red lace camisole, her skin shining distractingly.

"Stop it, Ashton," she giggled. "This is way too revealing!"

Ashton looked unfazed, slowly caressing her slender waist. "Come on now, get down."

That camisole had been custom-made for me after Ashton learned I was pregnant, to keep me warm. But now, it was being used as a tool for flirtation with another woman.

Their friends pretended to avert their eyes and teased, "Get a room, you two! We're here to eat, not watch a soap opera."

"Of course, our chef here knows how to spice things up," someone joked, and the room erupted into laughter as Ashton and Zoe shared a kiss.

"Just be careful, what if Mikayla comes back?" someone asked.

Ashton, unconcerned, slipped his hand beneath the fabric draped over Zoe’s body. "Relax, I've bought all the chocolates nearby. She won't be back soon."

"Besides," he added with a sneer, "she's pregnant and can't do much of anything now; she's practically a dull idol. The hormones have made her look worn out. She's a real drag."

He playfully smacked Zoe. "None of them compare to you, Zoe."

Zoe giggled, her fingers tracing Ashton's chest. "Ashton, you're terrible! Your ring is poking me. And really, what do you take me for? I'm a respectable woman!"

Ashton, visibly flustered, removed his ring and placed it on Zoe's finger. "There, wear it for me, my sweet girl."

Standing at the door, I felt my own ring pressing into my skin. But the conversation that followed was even more gut-wrenching.

"Hey Ashton, isn't that a bit much? What if Mikayla finds out and divorces you?"

Ashton laughed, pulling Zoe closer. "So what? Where’s she going with a baby on the way?"

"Besides, I know how to prioritize. If she can't meet some needs, someone else will. A man has his needs!"

The crowd cheered, "Ashton, you really have it all figured out!"

My stomach churned with disgust as I pushed open the door. The room fell silent as Ashton quickly wrapped Zoe in his jacket.

I laughed bitterly. "Oh, please, everyone’s already seen everything. Are you really worried about me seeing it?"

"Don’t talk nonsense. Her reputation is intact until you ruin it," Ashton retorted.

Zoe looked at me triumphantly. "Mikayla, don't get the wrong idea. We hadn't seen each other in years, just catching up."

Their friends quickly caught on, raising their glasses. "Yeah, Mikayla, we're just playing some truth or dare; things got a bit out of hand. Come on, Zoe, three drinks to apologize to Mikayla!"