After His Mistress Caused My Miscarriage, I Divorced Him

It was two in the morning by the time I got home. As I opened the door, I was greeted with a familiar yet unwelcome sight. Elio, half crouched, was gently massaging Maisy's knee, his eyes filled with an unmistakable tenderness. When he noticed my presence, he merely glanced briefly in my direction.

“Maisy's feeling down, so I brought her over,” he explained casually, showing no signs of guilt.

I clenched my fists, suppressing the storm brewing inside me, and headed straight towards the bedroom. However, his voice rang out again, sharp and detached.

“The guest room is all set up for you. Maisy's not comfortable being alone.”

I tried to swallow the bitterness, but tears of frustration and heartbreak streamed uncontrollably. Maisy, nestled in Elio’s arms, put on an overly self-effacing display.

“Elio, it's really not necessary. I'm fine with the guest room. I don't want to inconvenience Roselyn.”

Elio softly brushed her forehead, his words laced with reassurance. “Don't worry, I'm the one who calls the shots here. You're safe with me.”

Piecing together the fragments of my shattered composure, I turned to face him. His gaze stayed on Maisy until I stepped into view, at which point I was met with disdain.

“Why are you standing there? Do you need me to say it again?”

I bit my lip until I tasted blood, words of despair finally spilling out. “Elio, I want a divorce.”

At my declaration, he paused momentarily. He withdrew his hand from Maisy's shoulder, rising to his full height, a sardonic smile emerging as if I'd told a ridiculous joke.

“Roselyn, did I hear you right? A divorce?”

“You're an orphan with no one, where could you possibly go without me?” he scoffed. “I'm telling you, jealousy has its limits. Maisy and I are just friends; it's not what you think.”

He gathered Maisy in his arms, intent on taking her to the bedroom. I grabbed his shirt, forcing him to look at me directly.

“Elio, I'm serious. I'm exhausted.”

At my firm response, anger flared in his eyes. Maisy, wrapped in his embrace, chimed in with feigned remorse.

“Roselyn, I'm sorry. It's all my fault. Elio wouldn't have left you at the altar for me if it weren't for me. It's all on me; direct your anger at me, not him.”

She spoke between choked sobs, perfectly staged to draw maximum sympathy. A sudden cough from her only deepened Elio's concern.

Quickly, Elio laid Maisy gently onto the couch, hurried to the kitchen, and returned with a steaming cup of coffee.