Today marked both the death anniversary of our firstborn and also our seventh wedding anniversary. James and I usually celebrated it quietly, but this year, I wanted it to be different. After three years of grieving, I finally had good news—I was pregnant again.
James didn’t know yet. I wanted it to be a surprise. I could imagine his face once he found out. So I drove to the hospital for my first ultrasound.
At the hospital lobby, I caught sight of a familiar face—Dr. Evans. The same doctor who had fought to save my first born Amelia during her heart transplant.
I wanted to thank him, maybe tell him about the new life growing inside me. But before I could call out, he saw me first—and froze. His expression changed instantly. Shock. Panic. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away quickly.
Almost running. I stopped in confusion, my smile fading. “That’s… strange,” I murmured, watching him disappear down the hall. I brushed it off, thinking maybe he was just busy, but an uneasy feeling began to gnaw at me.
After the scan, I stepped outside to the hospital garden, holding the ultrasound photo in my hands. I smiled faintly at the tiny dot that would soon become our baby. I was still staring at it when I saw Dr. Evans again, talking to someone near the parking lot.
At first, I didn’t think much of it—until I recognized the man standing with him.
James. My husband.
I froze behind the pillar, the ultrasound photo trembling in my fingers.
“I just saw Nicole a while ago,” Dr. Evans was saying, his voice shaky. “She almost saw me, and I panicked. I ran. I just don’t know how to face her after everything that happened.”
James’s voice came next—calm, cold, far too familiar. “Relax, will you? If you keep running, she’ll get suspicious. Just keep calm.”
“James…” the doctor murmured. “It still feels wrong. She deserves to know—about the transplant—about what really happened to her daughter—”
“Shut up,” James hissed. “She doesn’t need to know. Not now. Not ever. She can’t know that the heart that was supposed to go to Amelia was given to my child with Sasha,” James finished coldly.
The world stopped. My knees went weak as his voice continued, sharp and cruel, each word carving into me like glass.
“She’s stupid for not knowing,” he sneered. “So just act normal. No one should find out—not yet—about my affair with Sasha. And when the time comes, I’ll make that child my heir and dispose of Nicole for good.”
The ultrasound photo slipped from my hand, fluttering to the ground.
My whole body trembled.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.
My baby—my Amelia—died because of him. Because he chose to save another woman’s child. Because the man I loved, the man I married, gave our daughter’s heart to his mistress’s baby.
And Sasha… My best friend. The woman I helped when she was broke, the one I recommended to James’s company because I wanted to help her start over. The woman I trusted.
They both betrayed me.
I didn’t know how long I stood there, numb, as their voices faded into the distance. My chest felt like it was collapsing. My mind couldn’t catch up with the weight of what I’d just heard.
I walked out of the hospital in a daze. The afternoon sun was blinding, too bright for such a dark truth. Cars honked, people brushed past me, but I didn’t hear anything except the echo of James’s words—dispose of Nicole.
My phone rang. I barely glanced at the screen before answering.
“Love,” James said, his tone casual, even warm. “Sorry, I can’t make it tonight. Something came up at work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“Nicole?” he prompted. “You there?”
I forced a small breath. “Yes,” I whispered. “I’m here.”
“Good,” he said lightly. “I love you.”
And just like that, the call ended.
I stood there, phone still pressed to my ear, staring at the street as everything inside me cracked open.
Love. Work. Lies. He had said all those words to me before—every single one of them—but now I knew what they truly meant.
I didn’t even remember how I got home. I just knew that by the time I stepped inside, the house felt colder than ever. The photos on the walls mocked me—smiles that had been built on betrayal.
I sank to the floor, clutching my stomach, and sobbed until my throat ached. Every sound felt hollow, every memory tainted.
For ten years, James had been my whole world. We grew up together—childhood friends who turned into something more. I had loved him since I was old enough to understand what love meant. He was reckless back then, the city’s infamous playboy, and everyone said he would never change. But he did—or at least, I thought he did.
They called me the girl who tamed the untamable. And for a while, we really did have our forever. I fought for him, against my mother’s disapproval, against reason, against everything. My mother warned me once, “A man who lives by desire will never learn loyalty.” I didn’t listen. I left home for James, believing love could make him better.
Now I know how wrong I was. As the truth of his betrayal sank in, regret clawed its way through me. Every sacrifice, every choice I made for him—it all led to this.
Through blurred tears, I reached for my phone with trembling hands. When my mother’s voice answered on the other end, I broke down completely.
“Mom…”
“Nicole? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. “I’m sorry, Mom. But I’m… I’m divorcing James. I can’t stay with him anymore. Please. Take me back. I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll obey you, even if you want me to marry someone else. I just… I can’t stay here anymore… because he killed our baby for his mistress’ child.”
