I eagerly sent the ultrasound image to my husband, excited to share the joyful news with him. Instead, I received divorce papers in return.
"If you’re not feeling well, go see a doctor. Why are you sending me medical reports? I don’t even know how to read them."
"Just sign the papers already. Eve’s kid needs a house in the right school district, so we’ll do a fake divorce."
Stunned, I called him to demand an explanation, but Lucas responded with a barrage of anger and insults.
On the other end of the line, I could clearly hear Evelyn’s laughter and that of a child.
After the call ended, I saw Evelyn Lake’s post online.
The caption read, “Thank you, Luke, for divorcing for me. My son can finally go to school!”
In the past, I would have confronted Lucas with a full-blown fight. But this time, I decided to go for a real divorce.
——
Lucas didn’t return home until late at night, reeking of alcohol. His white shirt had lipstick stains on the collar and there were a few red marks on his neck.
At that moment, I made up my mind to take a misoprostol pill.
It’s the medication required for a medical abortion.
Today was supposed to be our wedding anniversary. I had bought a cake, planning to celebrate and share the news of my pregnancy with him.
But what greeted me instead was a set of divorce papers from the one and only Lucas Sanders.
Lucas looked at the cake on the table and asked in confusion, “Whose birthday is it?”
I put the pills away, tossed the cake into the trash and said coldly, “Just a friend, that’s all.”
He quietly let out a sigh of relief. “See? I knew it wasn’t your birthday today.”
“And anyway, our wedding anniversary is on the 27th, not the 7th,” Lucas added smugly, looking at me as if expecting praise for remembering the date.
Yet in our three years of marriage, Lucas had never once gotten our anniversary date right. He’d always remembered Evelyn and her son’s birthdays, though—down to the smallest detail, never missing a single one.
Lucas pulled a Mickey Mouse plush toy out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Sorry about my tone on the phone earlier. Consider this an apology.”
The toy had a BMW logo stamped on it—clearly just a promotional item that came with a car purchase.
I recalled Evelyn’s post earlier today, where she had shared a photo of a brand-new BMW.
I responded flatly, “I don’t like stuffed animals, especially freebie ones.”
Lucas’s face showed a hint of embarrassment, but his tone remained calm.
“Don’t be so petty. Eve’s just a single mom—poor thing—and her kid’s already school-age. If he doesn’t start soon, it’ll be too late.”
“And once Eve’s paperwork for the school is done, you and I will remarry,” he said, leaning in, trying to pull me into his arms.
Just as his hand was about to touch me, I recoiled as if avoiding something filthy.
Lucas’s hand froze mid-air, the awkwardness palpable. His expression darkened as he withdrew it.
"Jane, why are you acting so high and mighty? I’ve already apologized—what more do you want?"
I didn’t want to argue anymore and stood up, ready to leave.
Seeing me ignore him, Lucas grew angrier. He grabbed my wrist in frustration. I lost my balance and slipped, landing hard on my injured left foot.
That injury? Lucas caused it a few days ago. He’d been carrying a pot of hot soup from the kitchen while distracted by texting Evelyn. He lost his grip, spilling the scalding liquid all over my foot, burning off a patch of skin. The wound still hadn’t healed.
Now, the reopened wound began bleeding again, staining the floor red.
Lucas looked flustered and panicked. “I didn’t mean it. I’ll take you to the hospital right now!”
I didn’t refuse. I simply nodded and said, “Fine.”
Lucas helped me into the car, but as soon as we were inside, the car’s Bluetooth assistant activated. Evelyn’s flirtatious voice filled the air.
“My big boss, drive safe, okay? And don’t forget to keep working hard to support me!”
Lucas’s face turned crimson with embarrassment. He hurriedly tried to explain. “Oh, the Bluetooth is Evelyn’s. She left it in my car. I’ll get rid of it right away.”
I replied calmly, “Don’t bother.”
The car was silent. Lucas kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror, trying to gauge my reaction.
“Jane, you’re not mad?” he asked hesitantly.
I pressed my lips together in a faint smile.
There was a time I considered Evelyn my mortal enemy, always picking fights with Lucas over her antics.
But now? I didn’t even care about Lucas anymore—why would I care about his mistress, or any other woman he might have?
“Just drive. It’s late,” I said flatly.
