When I got the news that my husband was having surgery, I braved a full-on hurricane—pouring rain, howling winds—and drove four hours straight back to the city. By the time I made it to the hospital, Evan was lying in the hospital bed, groggy but loud, demanding, “Where’s my wife? Someone get my wife here!” His friends, gathered around him, started teasing him, calling him whipped and saying how hopelessly in love he was with me. Everyone always said he adored me to no end. Blushing, I walked over with a shy smile, feeling a mix of relief and happiness. I gently took his hand and reassured him softly, “I’m here.” But to my shock, Evan frowned, yanked his hand away, and looked at me like I was some stranger. “Get lost!” he snapped, his voice filled with disdain. “You’re not my wife! My wife is Sofia!” … The once lively hospital room fell into an awkward silence after Evan’s outburst. His group of buddies immediately looked uncomfortable, avoiding my gaze like guilty children caught in the act. I scanned their faces, and it all became painfully clear: they knew about Sofia. In that moment, I felt like a complete fool. The sweetness and shyness I’d shown just moments before—how pathetic and laughable it must have seemed to them. One of them tried to stammer an explanation. “Um… don’t take it seriously, okay? Evan’s still out of it from the anesthesia. He’s just talking nonsense.” The rest quickly chimed in: “Yeah, everyone knows how much he loves you. He’s totally whipped—this has to be the drugs talking.” “Exactly! Sofia’s just his secretary. She could never compare to you in his heart.” But one of them nudged the speaker, signaling him to shut up. I didn’t say a word. I just stood there, numb. My feet, soaked from standing in rainwater for over four hours, felt cold and lifeless. Meanwhile, Evan kept calling out, “Where’s my wife? Where’s my wife? Mason, call my wife! Hurry!” His voice softened, tinged with a childlike sadness. “I want to hold her. Why doesn’t she care about me?” I held his hand tightly and asked, “Evan, who am I?” He blinked at me, his eyes unfocused, and after a long pause, he muttered three words: “The old hag.” I forced a laugh, though tears blurred my vision. So this was it. From high school sweethearts at seventeen to marriage at thirty, after just four years of being his wife, I’d already become “the old hag” in his eyes. In the end, I took Evan’s phone and called Sofia. She arrived quickly. The moment she entered, she ignored me entirely, rushing to Evan’s side like a heroine in a romance movie. Grabbing his hand, her eyes reddened with emotion as she cried, “Evan, I’m so sorry I’m late!” Evan’s eyes lit up instantly, his face breaking into a wide smile. He pulled her into a hug and said, “You’re finally here, honey. I missed you so much.” “Someone tried to pretend to be you earlier,” he added, glaring in my direction. “But I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it. I told her to get lost!” Sofia glanced at me smugly before turning back to Evan and cooing, “My husband is so smart.” Evan pointed to his lips, grinning like a child. “Don’t I deserve a reward?” Without hesitation, the two started kissing, completely oblivious to everyone else in the room. I watched, my throat tight and my chest aching. My eyes stung with unshed tears, and my entire body felt like it was trembling uncontrollably. No matter how hard I dug my nails into my leg, the cold numbness wouldn’t go away. Mason, one of Evan’s friends, finally broke the silence, his voice soft and hesitant. “Maybe… you should head home for now? Once Evan wakes up, I’m sure he’ll explain everything to you.” Explain? I turned to him, my face streaked with tears. I didn’t want to cry—especially not in front of Sofia. Crying in front of her felt like admitting defeat, like exposing my humiliation for her to revel in. But I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Just half an hour ago, Evan had been my perfect husband. My pride. My safe haven. We’d been together for thirteen years, and in all that time, we’d never once had a serious fight. I thought it was because of his endless patience and love for me. But now? That perfect image had been shattered, and the earthquake it caused in my heart left nothing but devastation. I walked out of the hospital room in silence. As I stepped through the door, I heard the collective sigh of relief from Evan’s friends, like they’d just gotten rid of a burden. At some point, I’d been quietly pushed out of Evan’s life—and his inner circle—without even realizing it. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I replayed every moment of our thirteen years together in my mind, every sweet memory now bitter and suffocating. At some point, I developed a fever. My body felt unbearably hot, yet I couldn’t wake up no matter how hard I tried. It was as if I were trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t escape. Just as I thought I might die, I felt a hand on my forehead and heard someone calling me softly, “Honey, wake up. Please.” I couldn’t respond. I didn’t have the strength. All I could do was let the tears roll silently down my face. When I finally woke up, the fever had broken. The first thing I saw was Evan sitting by my bedside, looking utterly exhausted.
I didn’t expect to wake up to the sight of Evan sitting by my bedside. For a moment, I thought last night had been a bad dream. I just stared at him blankly, unable to process it all. When Evan saw me awake, his face lit up with relief. He grabbed my hand tightly and asked, “Baby, how are you feeling? Are you okay?” I slid my hand out of his grasp, frowning as I looked at him. “Baby? Or… the old hag?” His face turned pale as if all the blood had drained from it. His eyes reddened, and to my shock, he slapped himself hard across the cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “I swear, it was the anesthesia talking. I wasn’t in my right mind.” He looked at me, his expression full of regret and desperation. “I… I don’t even know how I could’ve done something so stupid. When I fully came to, I was consumed with regret and fear. “I was terrified you’d leave me. That’s why, even though the doctor told me I wasn’t ready to be discharged, I left anyway.” As he spoke, he struggled to stand, lifting his shirt to show me the bandages from his appendectomy. Blood was beginning to seep through the gauze. I remembered how he had stayed by my side all night, even in his condition, and my heart softened just a little. Looking at the hurt and guilt in his eyes, I thought to myself—maybe this was real. Maybe… he wasn’t completely beyond saving. Maybe he had just been momentarily infatuated with a younger, prettier woman. But that infatuation couldn’t compare to the love he had for me. If he could cut off those feelings completely, maybe we could go back to the way we were. But the memory of him kissing Sofia in front of everyone played on a loop in my mind, reopening the wounds. My tears began to fall before I could stop them. Evan’s eyes turned red, filled with guilt. Panicked, he started wiping my tears, rambling apologies. “I’m so sorry, Hannah. I never wanted to hurt you like this. “But please, believe me—there’s no one else for me but you. I don’t even know why I said what I did under the anesthesia. “I’ve already fired Sofia. No matter what, her behavior last night proved she had inappropriate intentions toward me. “A woman like that—someone who’d knowingly try to wreck a marriage—I would never be interested in her!” He paused, then added earnestly, “You know how much I hate cheaters. After what happened with my parents, do you really think I’d ever do something like that?” I looked into his eyes and thought back to his past. His mother had taken her own life after his father’s affair drove her into a breakdown. Evan had always despised infidelity, going so far as to refuse to work with people he deemed morally corrupt. And honestly, if there were someone else in his heart, how could he have treated me so well all these years? With that thought, I decided to give him another chance. Evan pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. His tears fell onto my neck, warm and wet, and I could feel him trembling. I knew Evan wasn’t someone who cried easily. If he was crying now, it meant he truly loved me. It meant he was genuinely afraid of losing me. I whispered, “Evan, don’t lie to me. If you ever betray me again, you’ll lose me for good.” His body stiffened slightly, but a moment later, he leaned back and looked at me with determination. “Hannah, I swear—your Evan will never betray you. Ever.” And just like that, we made up. In the weeks that followed, Evan treated me better than ever before. He started driving me to and from work every day, never missing a single pick-up or drop-off. He brought me a different bouquet of flowers every morning, gave me nightly massages, and curled up on the couch with me to binge cheesy rom-coms, no matter how much he hated them. At work, my coworkers teased me endlessly, saying I had my husband wrapped around my finger. Some even asked me for tips on “husband training.” But unlike before, when I used to speak of our relationship with pride and confidence, I could only muster a faint, hollow smile. The events of that night had left a knot in my heart—one I couldn’t untangle, no matter how hard I tried. A month later, I found out I was pregnant. When I told Evan, he was over the moon. He picked me up and spun me around in circles, laughing like a child. Watching him beam with joy, I felt a sense of relief. I was glad I hadn’t let one mistake ruin what we had. I thought to myself, He’ll be a great dad. That hope shattered the day I walked into the OB-GYN’s office and saw him with Sofia. He was sitting next to her, his hand gently resting on her belly, his face glowing with tender excitement. I froze in the doorway, my heart pounding as I watched him lean closer to her and smile. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he said softly. “I can’t wait to meet our baby.” Sofia, her face flushed with happiness, looked at him and asked, “Do you think you’ll love our baby more than Hannah’s?” Without even looking up, Evan replied, “Of course I will. This is my first son. “Besides, you’re young and beautiful. There’s no way her baby could compare to ours.”
I never knew it was possible to feel so disgusted by someone that it could make you physically sick. Doubling over, I barely made it to the trash can before I started vomiting uncontrollably. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sofia and Evan walking in my direction, laughing as they talked. Panicked, I ducked behind the trash can, crouching low to avoid being seen. “I don’t know how you’re so sure it’s a boy,” Sofia said in a playful, teasing tone. “What if it’s a girl?” Evan chuckled softly. “Then I’ll love her too. A little girl who’s sweet, gentle, and as beautiful as her mom? I’d be the luckiest man alive.” Sofia giggled, her laugh high-pitched and flirtatious. “You’re such a charmer. But… I’m scared, Evan. What if, once her baby is born, you don’t have time for me and our little one anymore?” Evan’s voice was calm, reassuring. “Don’t worry. I’ve already thought it all through. Tomorrow, Mason will help you move to the house in Seaside. “From now on, I’ll tell her I’m traveling for work. That’ll give me at least two weeks every month to be with you.” Sofia squealed with excitement, and the two of them climbed into his car, laughing and chatting like they didn’t have a care in the world. I stayed crouched behind the trash can long after they left, trembling as tears blurred my vision. The crumpled ultrasound report I’d been clutching in my hand was now a mess of smudged ink and torn paper. I stared at it, suddenly thankful that I’d decided to come to the hospital alone today—thinking I’d been “saving Evan the trouble” because of how hard he’d been working recently. If I hadn’t… I would’ve never seen this with my own eyes. I would’ve kept living like an idiot, oblivious to the betrayal right in front of me. But Evan… if you love her so much, why did you beg me to stay? Why didn’t you just divorce me? I didn’t get home until late that night. By then, Evan had called me dozens of times, but I ignored every single one. The moment I walked through the door, he rushed over and pulled me into a tight hug, his face full of worry. “Hannah! Where were you? I’ve been going crazy looking for you!” “I went to the hospital,” I said flatly. Evan froze, his expression shifting to one of nervousness. He glanced at me, choosing his words carefully. “What time did you go? Which hospital? Why didn’t you call me?” “The General Hospital,” I replied. “You’ve been so busy lately, I didn’t want to bother you.” He visibly relaxed, letting out a small sigh of relief. They’d gone to the women’s health clinic. “How did it go? What did the doctor say?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “You… don’t look too good. Is everything okay?” I hesitated for a moment, then said, “The doctor said… there’s a chance I might lose the baby.” I watched his face closely as I spoke, searching for any trace of genuine emotion. Evan looked surprised but not devastated. He quickly pulled me into his arms and whispered, “It’s okay, baby. You’re the only one that matters to me.” His words made me feel like my heart was being ripped apart. I wanted to scream, to slap him, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain I was feeling. It was clear he didn’t care about this baby at all. Why would he, when he already had another child on the way—one he was excited for, one he actually wanted? I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. Pushing him away, I muttered something about being tired and locked myself in the bedroom. Later that evening, Evan knocked on the door, calling me out for dinner. I couldn’t stand to see his face, so I pretended to be asleep. Not long after, I heard him step out of the room. A few minutes later, his phone rang, and he quickly left the house. The second the door closed, I got up, grabbed my keys, and followed him. I tailed him to a flower shop, where he bought a bouquet of roses. Then he stopped by a mall to pick up a designer handbag, followed by a bakery where he grabbed a box of desserts. Finally, he drove to his destination—our home. Our marital home. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My chest felt tight, my stomach churned, and I thought I was going to be sick again. Never in my worst nightmares did I imagine he would let her live in the house we built together. This wasn’t just any house. It was the first home we ever shared. The one I bought with the money I earned from selling my parents’ old home and working endless nights on freelance projects. I’d gifted it to him as a wedding present—a symbol of our love, a foundation for our future. Even after he became successful—after he bought bigger, fancier properties—this house remained untouched. He always said it was special, a testament to our love and the sacrifices we’d made for each other. And now, he’d brought her here. The woman carrying his child. He let her trample over everything that house represented. Over me. That night, I didn’t go inside. I sat in my car, parked in front of the house, and watched. Watched as the lights turned on and off. As they laughed and moved around inside. As they made themselves at home. It felt like I was punishing myself for being so blind, for believing in him for so long. I told myself that by staying here, facing this brutal reality, I could finally break free. The next morning, just as the sun was rising, Evan stepped out of the house looking refreshed and happy. Sofia was right behind him, practically glowing as she followed him to his car. She stood on her tiptoes to adjust his tie, her voice soft and affectionate as she spoke to him. He leaned forward slightly, smiling at her, his hands free so he could type a message on his phone. A moment later, my phone buzzed. I picked it up and saw his text: *”There’s an issue with a big contract at work. I’ve been tied up all night and probably won’t be home until late. Take care of yourself and make sure you eat. Love you, babe.”*
That nauseating feeling surged up again, and no matter how hard I tried to suppress it, I couldn’t stop myself from throwing up. This man… he was disgusting. So disgusting. After Evan drove off, Sofia hummed a cheerful tune as she walked upstairs. I stayed in the car for a while, trying to steady myself. My face was pale, but I forced some color back with a swipe of lipstick before stepping out. I walked up to the door and knocked. Sofia answered with a smile, muttering playfully, “What, did you forget something agai—” Her words trailed off the moment she saw me. Her smile didn’t falter, though. In fact, it widened, filled with mockery and malice. She looked me up and down, completely unbothered, and said in a sweet yet venomous tone: “Well, well, it’s you. I guess you found your way here. Why don’t you come in and take a look around?” She stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter, as if she were the rightful lady of the house. That smug, self-assured look on her face—it was as if I were the other woman here, nothing more than an unwelcome intruder. My chest tightened, my breathing grew uneven, but my heart… it felt dead. Hollow. I walked inside, numb, stepping into what I once believed was the happiest place in the world for Evan and me. And yet, everywhere I looked, there were reminders of them. Matching slippers by the door. Coordinated pajamas draped over the bedroom chair. A pair of toothbrushes on the bathroom counter, arranged in a way that formed a heart. It was all so domestic. So intimate. Sofia didn’t bother following me. She didn’t need to. She stayed by the fresh bouquet of flowers Evan had given her, lazily arranging them as she sneered over her shoulder. “Why put yourself through this?” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “The moment you decided to forgive him, you should’ve known. To Evan, you’re just a woman with no boundaries. “In his mind, as long as he doesn’t divorce you, you’ll keep forgiving him. You’ll keep tolerating him. “Go ahead, confront him. He’ll just apologize, spin some pretty lie, and make you believe he’s sorry. And you? You’ll forgive him again. Because you don’t have a choice. “I mean, look at you. At your age, where else are you going to find a husband as rich as him? “You think you’re better than me, but the truth is, we’re the same.” The same? Her words felt like poison in my veins. I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip that smug expression off her face. I thought about Evan and me, about everything we’d been through. We met when we were young—too young. For him, I sacrificed my career, worked endless hours, and supported him while he built his business from nothing. Sure, he made it big, but he couldn’t have done it without me. And this woman… she had the audacity to claim we were the same? But the confidence in her voice—it was unshakable. And deep down, I knew why. She believed it because Evan had told her so. In that moment, something in me clicked. I realized I’d been wrong all along. I forgave him because I loved him. Because I thought he loved me, too. But to him, my forgiveness wasn’t about love. It was about convenience. This man, this relationship we’d built over more than a decade—it had all rotted into something vile and toxic. Without another word, I walked past Sofia, ignoring the venom in her gaze, and entered the living room. That’s when I saw it. Hanging on the wall was a massive photo. A wedding portrait. In the picture, Sofia wore a diamond-studded wedding gown, her hand resting delicately on Evan’s chest as he held her close. The two of them stood against the backdrop of Santorini’s iconic blue and white cliffs. The image practically screamed luxury and extravagance. I thought I was numb, thought I couldn’t feel anything anymore. But the sight of that photo hit me like a dagger to the chest. Once, that wall had held our wedding photo. Ours was nothing like this one. We couldn’t afford anything extravagant back then. We didn’t even hire a photographer. Our photo had been taken on a beach, using a cheap tripod and a timer. I wore a simple white dress and a borrowed veil. It wasn’t fancy, but it was ours. It was real. Now, it was gone. Replaced by this. I forced myself to stay calm. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the portrait. For the first time in a long time, my mind felt clear. Rotten things belonged in the trash. Evan and Sofia had been living together long enough to establish what was essentially a common-law marriage. I had all the evidence I needed. I’d take this to a lawyer. Make sure neither of them got away with anything. Sofia noticed me taking the photo. Her smugness cracked for a moment, replaced by panic. She lunged forward, one hand protectively cradling her belly, the other reaching for my phone. I stepped aside, but as I moved, she shoved me hard, sending me crashing into the coffee table. Pain exploded through my body as I hit the corner of the table. Almost immediately, I felt a warm, wet sensation between my legs. Blood. Sofia’s expression shifted, her eyes flashing with something dark and twisted. I collapsed to the floor, clutching my stomach as waves of pain radiated through me. My hand fumbled for my phone, desperate to call for help. Even if Evan didn’t want this baby, it was still mine. I couldn’t lose it. I wouldn’t. Sofia laughed cruelly, her voice filled with malice. As I reached for my phone, she stomped on my hand, grinding her heel into my fingers. The pain was excruciating. I screamed, tears streaming down my face. And then I heard it—a soft beep, followed by the sound of the front door unlocking. Someone was coming in. I looked up, dazed and barely conscious, and saw Evan standing in the doorway. He was back.
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