My Wife Secretly Aborted Our Child, and After My Death, the Truth Drove Her to Madness

I lie in a hospital bed, battling a severe illness, while my wife races to the airport to pick up her first love, who just returned from abroad. She spends her days drinking with him, picking fights, and chasing every reckless thrill they can find. She forgets our wedding anniversary entirely, and when she decides to end our child’s life, she keeps it from me—like I don’t deserve to know. Even when I end up in a car accident, broken and bleeding, she doesn’t bother to visit. Despair sets in, and on the operating table, I take my last breath. Only later, when the truth comes out, does she realize the depth of her betrayal. But by then, it’s too late—her regret consumes her, driving her to the edge of madness. Vanessa Frost and I had been married for five years, but between her relentless work schedule and constant traveling, the time we spent together could barely fill a day. This year, things finally seemed to take a turn. “Rowan, let’s start over,” she said. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake, imagining a future where we grew old together, content and in love. But everything unraveled again just as quickly. Yesterday, I was rushed to the hospital with a sudden case of appendicitis. The doctor said I needed emergency surgery. I called Vanessa over and over—no answer. Lying on that hospital bed, staring at the blank white ceiling, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Lately, she had been acting strange. She’d disappear without explanation and ignore my calls and messages. I opened our chat history. Message after message, all from me. The last one was sent just before I went into surgery. Rowan: [Honey, I’m in the hospital. The doctor says it’s appendicitis, and I need surgery. Can you come be with me?] No response. Maybe she was busy. Maybe she hadn’t seen it yet. I didn’t know. Hesitating, I sent another message. Rowan: [The surgery’s over now. You don’t need to worry.] Just as I put my phone down, a notification popped up—a friend request. I recognized the profile picture immediately. Ethan Wells. My wife’s first love. I didn’t know why he was trying to add me in the middle of the night, but I accepted anyway. He didn’t say anything. Instead, I clicked into his Instagram out of curiosity. One post caught my eye. Ethan: [When someone loves you, they’ll cross mountains and oceans to reach you.] The photo showed a woman standing in an airport terminal, her back to the camera. I knew that silhouette. It was Vanessa. The post had been uploaded at 10 PM, just ten minutes after I’d sent my last message. At that exact moment, I was on the operating table. And just like that, I understood why he had added me.

Before I saw that Instagram post, I had come up with every excuse I could think of to defend Vanessa. She must have been busy. Maybe she was caught up at work, or stuck in a meeting, or out for drinks with clients… It had to be work. That was why she didn’t reply. But that post shattered everything I’d believed. No wonder she hadn’t picked up. No wonder my texts went unanswered. Her first love was back in town. And I? I was the fool, lying there in a sterile hospital room, thinking she cared. My hand tightened around my phone, veins rising against my skin. I opened the dialer and stared at her number for what felt like hours, my eyes dry and aching. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to press call. I lay there, numb, scrolling through Ethan’s posts—punishing myself with every word. Unlike Vanessa’s spotless and empty page, Ethan’s feed was alive. He posted everything: random thoughts, moments from his day, reflections on life. The one thing they all had in common? A heart emoji at the end of every caption. He never mentioned her directly, but she was there in every post. Suddenly, I remembered how Vanessa always checked Instagram and how her mood would shift afterward. I used to ask what she was looking at, only for her to shut her phone and glare at me. “Don’t invade my privacy,” she’d said coldly. And I never asked again. I scrolled further and froze when I saw another post. Ethan announcing his engagement. He was leaving the country for good. That was the same day Vanessa turned to me and said, “Let’s start over.”

Ethan Wells. Vanessa’s college classmate and the love she could never let go. Back then, she practically revolved around him. If Ethan mentioned a favorite breakfast, Vanessa would cross half the city to bring it to him. They weren’t even in the same major, so she switched. Ethan liked clubs, so she learned to drink and smoke. Anything he liked, she made herself like too—no matter the cost. Everyone knew how far she would go for him. But they never ended up together. In his senior year, Ethan announced he was leaving the country to study abroad. Vanessa chased him all the way to the airport. No one knew what he said to her that day, but after she came back, she locked herself away for weeks. I was there for her through it all. And when she finally agreed to marry me, it felt like a miracle. Even on our wedding day, I couldn’t believe it was real. When I slipped the ring on her finger, I cried like a child. She didn’t love me the way I loved her—I knew that. But I didn’t care. People called me pathetic, a fool. But she was my exception. For years, I thought loving her was enough. But I started to realize… maybe it wasn’t.

The doctor came to check on me, frowning when he saw I was alone. “You need to call a family member to stay with you,” he said sternly. My parents had passed away years ago. Vanessa was all I had. I called her again. This time, her phone was off. I laughed bitterly to myself. What was I expecting? Ethan was back. Of course she didn’t care. So I called Ryan Hale, my oldest friend. He arrived not long after, stopping short when he saw me. “Rowan? Jesus, you look terrible.” One sleepless night had left me pale and hollow-eyed. “Where’s Vanessa? You’re in the hospital, and she’s not here? What kind of wife does that? She’s got you wrapped around her finger, man.” I stared at him, his anger echoing my own thoughts. Maybe he was right. My love—my blind devotion—had only made it easier for her to hurt me. I took a steady breath. “Ethan’s back.” Ryan froze, the apple he’d been peeling forgotten in his hand. “That bastard came back?” “I think I’m going to file for divorce.” Ryan’s face shifted, his mouth opening as if to say something, but he stopped. Finally, he muttered, “Maybe that’s for the best.” I already knew it was. I’d known for years that Vanessa never let Ethan go. Once, I’d brought her a coat she forgot at home. I found her at a friend’s gathering, and as I reached the door, I overheard her friend’s voice. “You’re married to Rowan, but you’re still hung up on Ethan?” Vanessa’s voice had been calm, almost cold. “It’s different. Ethan is Ethan. I’ll never forget him. Rowan? He’s just what I settled for.” I stood there, frozen, though I wore layers to keep out the cold. But nothing had ever felt so cold as that moment. That was when I knew—I would never be enough.

It wasn’t until I returned home from the hospital that I realized the truth. During the days I had been recovering alone, Vanessa hadn’t just ignored my messages and calls—she hadn’t even come home once. The house was empty, the furniture covered in a thin layer of dust. I sat there for a long time, staring at the lifeless space around me. She must’ve been having the time of her life these past few days. I pulled out my phone and opened Ethan’s Instagram again. The newest post was a video. The lights were dim, the music loud and distorted, the crowd twisting and swaying on a dance floor. Vanessa was there—pressed close to Ethan, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm to the beat. As the song ended, Ethan’s arm slid tighter around her waist. Vanessa tilted her head up, her gaze hazy, her expression soft. Her eyes were locked on him. Ethan leaned down and kissed her—deeply, completely—as though they were the only two people in the world. The video ended there, but I kept scrolling. More videos, more posts. They were everywhere. Dancing at nightclubs, drinking and brawling at street food stalls, racing motorcycles down empty roads in the dead of night. All the things they used to love when they were young. While I lay alone in a hospital bed, this was how she had spent her time—reliving her past with him. The thought was laughable. Vanessa was my wife, yet the only way I could see her was through another man’s Instagram feed.

I had just finished cleaning up the house when I heard the door unlock. I looked up and saw her walk in. She froze when our eyes met, clearly surprised to see me there. “You’re home? You got discharged already?” So she did know I had been in the hospital. For some reason, I’d assumed she hadn’t even noticed. I picked up a cloth and wiped the table again, pretending to ask casually, “Did you have fun these past few days? With Ethan?” She looked confused, like she hadn’t understood what I meant. “What are you talking about?” Without a word, I pulled out my phone, opened Ethan’s Instagram, and held it out to her. Vanessa took the phone and scrolled through it for a moment, and I watched as the color drained from her face—red to pale, pale to gray—until finally, in a burst of anger, she slammed the phone onto the table. And just like that, the biggest fight we’d ever had erupted. “Are you questioning me?” she shouted. “Yes! I was with Ethan these past few days. And you know what? I was happy—happier than I’ve been in years. These were the best days I’ve had in a long time. So what?” The calm I’d been holding onto shattered, replaced by a sharp, aching pain. I lifted my head to look at her, my voice quiet, broken. “Didn’t you say you wanted to start over with me?” She avoided my gaze, her voice faltering. “I did say that. But… I only said it because I thought Ethan wasn’t coming back.” I tilted my head back to stop the tears burning in my eyes. My voice was thick when I asked, “So that’s it? Now that he’s back, you’re just going to throw me away?” I pressed on, my words cutting through the silence. “We’ve been married for years. No matter what I do for you, no matter how good I try to be, I’ll never compare to him, will I? Even when I was sick, lying in a hospital bed, you thought picking him up at the airport was more important, didn’t you? Even knowing I was there, you still chose to ignore me, didn’t you?” Vanessa stood there, silent. Her silence was what hurt the most. It was always like this—me chasing, her refusing to turn around. “Even knowing how worthless he is, you still love him?” That did it. Her expression sharpened, her voice cold. “Enough. I don’t want to hear you talk about him like that. You don’t have the right.” That broke me completely. “Why?” I shouted, my voice cracking. “Why can’t you love me the way you love him? Even just a little. A fraction of what you give him.” I must’ve looked so pitiful—like a dog left out in the rain, crying and begging to be let back inside. Vanessa’s expression shifted. For the first time, I saw hesitation in her eyes. After a long pause, she said, “I just want us to part peacefully, Rowan. You know how I was after Ethan left. I’ve been miserable for so long. Now that he’s back, I don’t want to have any more regrets.”

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