I have spent nine years with Serena, and during that time, she has suffered ten miscarriages. Every time, I cared for her, afraid for both her well-being and the baby’s. But every time, for no clear reason, we lost the child. Seeing her pale and weakened from blood loss, my heart broke each time, and I felt a deep sense of guilt.
Then one evening, when she went out to dinner with friends, I decided to pick her up early, worried she might drink too much. I never expected to find her in an embrace, kissing her fitness coach.
"Serena, your husband’s here! Stop kissing him!" One of her friends urged her to pull away. But when she saw me, drunk and sneering, she said, "Perfect timing, come join us, husband."
She then added, "You should thank my coach. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have known the pain of almost being a father ten times."
Her friends were confused. "Serena, you know your husband is grieving the loss of your child too. Don’t joke about something so serious." But Serena laughed it off. "What? Those children were mine and Isaiah’s. But I love my husband so much, I sacrificed my body for his image. Why else would I get rid of those children?"
The words cut through me like a sharp knife. I stayed silent and left without a word.
It became clear that what I thought was love was simply submission.
——
As I walked away, a friend of hers spoke, "Serena, you should comfort your husband. He listens to you more than anyone." Her fitness coach, Isaiah Cheshire, added, "I’m sure he’s angry because you're carrying my child again. Maybe I should apologize to him."
But Serena continued, "You’re too soft-hearted and kind. He has no family left. Where else can he go but with me?" She threatened, "Anthony, if you walk out that door, don’t think you’ll ever come back."
Despite my heartache, I took a deep breath, numb but hurt by her betrayal. I turned around and walked back. She scoffed, "See? He doesn’t dare leave. Isaiah worked so hard to make me pregnant, and now he has to worry about your feelings. You’re too much."
I looked at her coldly and said, "Let’s get a divorce."
She grinned, "Are you in such a rush to divorce me because your mistress can’t wait?"
I couldn't help but find it absurd. She had been unfaithful to me, and yet, she accused me of being restless.
"Fine, before we divorce, settle what you owe me," she said, walking over to me and grabbing my hand. "I put this ring on your finger," she tugged the ring off, leaving a bloody scratch on my finger.
"I chose this necklace for you," she pulled the necklace off, leaving a wound on my neck.
"And this dress," she tore at my clothes, regardless of my resistance.
She laughed, "And this underwear I picked for you! Why don’t you take it off too?"
The crowd snickered, and she mocked, "Don’t pretend you want a divorce while still wearing the underwear I chose for you. You’re so hypocritical."
The whispers and lewd laughter echoed around me. "Aren’t you angry? You’re too cowardly to even notice I was having an affair with you every day. Maybe I should have kept it a secret so you could finally experience what it means to be a father."
