On our wedding anniversary, my husband gave my first-class seat to another woman. Ethan Ward was obsessive about time. He had a rule: if any argument lasted more than ten minutes, he would walk away. Not a second longer. But that day, my morning sickness was so bad that I arrived at the gate three minutes late. When I looked up, Ethan had already told the crew to close the cabin door. In first class, Lily Scott was sitting in my seat. This was the fourth time. Whenever I was a step behind, he gave my seat to Lily. The first time, I was held up two extra minutes at security. He took Lily to the Maldives. The second time, my prenatal appointment ran over. Five minutes late. He checked Lily into the spa hotel I had booked. The third time, I was so nauseous my legs gave out. Ninety seconds late coming downstairs. His car pulled away from me with Lily inside. He said: “You’re always late. I can’t leave a seat empty and waste it.” I stood outside the gate, and a tearing pain ripped through my abdomen. My hands shook as I dialed Ethan. Busy signal. Again. Still busy. The third time, the call finally went through. His voice was calm. “Lily’s a little airsick. I can’t step away. Call 911 yourself.” I looked down at the pool of red by my feet and slowly set the phone on the ground. I thought the pain would bring me to my knees, but when your heart truly dies, your body doesn’t collapse. Ethan, since your schedule never has a single minute to wait for me— This time, I’ll be the one who leaves you behind. By the time the ambulance arrived, I could barely form words. The paramedics cut open my blood-soaked pant leg and lifted me onto a stretcher. A nurse gripped my wrist. “How many weeks along? Where’s your family?” “Eleven weeks.” I gasped for air. “My family is on a plane.” “Can we reach the baby’s father?” I closed my eyes. “Don’t bother. He can’t step away.” My phone rang once more. Ethan’s name on the screen. I stared for two seconds, then answered. “Claire, did you call an ambulance?” In the background, Lily’s soft voice floated through. “Ethan, is something wrong with Claire? Should we turn around? I can handle it.” Ethan said flatly: “She’s an expert at making small things into big drama. Just lie down.” Then he asked me: “If the airport medical office can handle it, why did you need to call an ambulance? The plane has already taken off. We’re not turning back for you.” Another wave of cramping seized my abdomen. I bit my lip, waited for the pain to pass, then said: “The doctor says there’s a risk of miscarriage.” Two seconds of silence on the other end. Then he said: “Are you using the baby to guilt-trip me again?” “Claire, you’re the one who was late. If I rearranged everything for you every single time, everyone would think schedules don’t matter.” If this were before, I would have explained. I wasn’t late on purpose. I was in so much pain I couldn’t stand. But now, watching the nurse swap out blood-soaked gauze over and over, I suddenly had no strength left to speak. Lily’s voice came through again. “Ethan, don’t be upset. Pregnant women are emotional. She probably just wants you to comfort her.” Ethan’s voice turned even colder. “I don’t have time for your jealousy. If you’re admitted, keep the receipts. I’ll reimburse you when I’m back. Stop calling. Lily isn’t feeling well and needs rest.” The line went dead. I glanced at the time. Exactly ten minutes. The nurse looked at me, words caught on her tongue. I pressed the phone face-down into my palm. “Could you put it on silent for me?” By the time the examination was over, it was dark outside. The doctor placed the report in front of me. “Threatened miscarriage. You must stay on bed rest. No exertion, no stress.” I asked: “Can the baby be saved?” “There’s still a heartbeat for now, but no one can guarantee anything. You should have family with you tonight.” I shook my head. The doctor frowned. “You can’t be alone. If there’s heavy bleeding, press the call button immediately.” The door opened then. Ethan’s assistant walked in carrying a suitcase. He pulled out a cashmere shawl. “Mr. Ward asked me to bring this over. Ms. Scott left it at the airport. Mr. Ward is worried she’ll be cold on her return flight. He’d like you to wash it and drop it at the dry cleaner’s.” The doctor’s face darkened. “She nearly miscarried, and you people are asking her to deal with this?” The assistant looked embarrassed. “Mr. Ward said his wife usually handles these things. And it needs to be delivered by nine tomorrow morning. Ms. Scott needs it for her return trip.” The assistant’s phone rang. Ethan’s voice came through on speaker. “Did you deliver it?” “Yes. But the doctor says she can’t get out of bed.” His voice shifted toward me. “Claire, stop dragging your feet. Lily’s things can’t be delayed.” I handed the shawl back. “Take it. I have no obligation to look after her belongings.” Ethan’s tone was indifferent. “What’s the fuss now? It’s just a shawl.” I rested my hand on my still-aching belly, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re right. So it won’t matter if it gets lost.” The assistant was about to take the shawl back when a booklet slid from the suitcase. A prenatal record. The name on the cover: Lily Scott. At the bottom, printed clearly— Eight weeks pregnant.
“Lily is pregnant?” I opened the prenatal booklet. Inside was an ultrasound image. The assistant’s face changed. He lunged to grab it. “Ma’am, this is Ms. Scott’s private information.” I looked at him. “Why is her private information in my husband’s suitcase?” “Mr. Ward only accompanied her to an appointment.” The call was still connected. Ethan said coldly: “Lily hasn’t been feeling well lately. I took her to get checked. She’s not married and doesn’t want anyone to know. Keep it to yourself.” I looked at the date on the ultrasound. That day was also the day of my first prenatal appointment. Ethan had promised to go with me. But at the hospital entrance, he suddenly said Lily’s car had broken down and told me to go in alone. I waited in line for four hours by myself. When I came out with my results, his phone was already off. So in that same hospital, he had been with another woman for her appointment the entire time. I asked: “Whose baby is it?” “That’s none of your business.” “You’re my husband.” Ethan’s patience ran out. “Which is exactly why I’m telling you to drop it.” “Claire, you already have a child on the way. There’s no need to be so hostile toward someone who has no one else.” I simply repeated: “Whose baby is it?” Lily sounded like she had just been woken, her voice faint. “Claire, please don’t misunderstand. There’s nothing between Ethan and me. I just didn’t want my family to know, so he’s keeping it quiet for me.” I asked: “Then where’s the father?” She went silent for a moment, then began to cry softly. Ethan immediately lowered his voice to soothe her. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” When he came back on the line, his tone held nothing but irritation. “Are you done interrogating her? She just found out she’s pregnant. She can’t handle the stress.” I looked at the diagnosis sheet by my bed. We were both carrying children, but the way he treated us couldn’t have been more different. Lily furrowed her brow, and he worried about her stress. I lay in a hospital bed bleeding, and all he remembered was to have me wash her shawl. “Ethan, I can’t handle stress either.” “You’re fine, aren’t you?” After those words left his mouth, both ends of the line went quiet. I didn’t argue. This was the first time I hung up on him. Ethan came back the next afternoon. He didn’t come to the hospital first. He took Lily home to rest. At seven in the evening, he finally pushed open the door, carrying a container of takeout congee. “Lily said your appetite’s been bad. She told me to bring this for you.” I glanced at the packaging. Seafood congee. Lily’s favorite. I’m allergic to shrimp. I was his wife. Yet I was never the one he cherished. “Just leave it,” I said, too tired for anything else. He sat on the edge of the bed, studying my face. “What did the doctor say?” “Bed rest to keep the pregnancy.” “There’s a Ward family dinner tomorrow night. We were going to announce your pregnancy. Since you can’t make it, I’ll have Lily attend in your place.” I stared at him. “She’s going to play Mrs. Ward for me?” Ethan tucked the blanket around me, his tone unusually gentle. “She’s just sitting in your seat. Focus on getting better. Don’t get hung up on the small things.” A beat later, he pulled an authorization form from his briefcase. “Sign this. Tomorrow night they’re also unveiling Cloud Cabin. Since you can’t be there, we’ll put Lily’s name as lead designer for now. We’ll change it back after the presentation.” I gripped those pages. Cloud Cabin was my mother’s manuscript. It was the project I had poured two years of my life into completing. “Why can’t you just announce my name?” “If you’re absent from the launch, it shakes investor confidence. Lily presents well, and she can be there on time. She’s more suitable than you.” “It’s my design.” “I know.” He pressed a pen into my hand. “It’s just borrowing her name. Don’t be immature about this.” I pulled my hand away. “I won’t sign.” Ethan’s expression went cold. “Claire, the company isn’t here to indulge your moods. You already disrupted the flight by being late. Lily is willing to clean up your mess, and you’re still making a scene?” He smoothed the authorization form flat again. “Sign it by nine. My assistant will come pick it up.” “And if I don’t?” “All of Cloud Cabin’s development data is at Ward Group. Whether you sign or not, I have the authority to decide who presents it.” He knew exactly how much I had given to this project. My fists clenched, and I finally said the words. “Let’s get divorced.” Ethan looked at me, a hint of derision in his eyes. “Claire, even jealousy has a limit. Don’t push this past the point of no return.” His tone was so certain. Just like every argument before—he was certain I could never leave him. But this time, I was truly done. Too exhausted to even fight him on it.
The door had barely opened when a nurse walked in with lab results. “Are you Claire Ward’s family? Her levels have dropped again. She needs twenty-four-hour monitoring.” Ethan glanced at his watch. “I promised Lily dinner at eight. I can’t be late.” I looked at him and asked one last time: “So she’s more important than me?” “It’s not what you think.” Ethan’s voice went cold. “Lily is punctual. She’s composed. She knows what matters. If her father hadn’t died saving my life, she wouldn’t be alone in this world. When are you going to grow up and be more like her?” With that, he stepped around the nurse and strode out. I had heard this speech many times. Lily’s father had been the Ward family’s pilot. Ten years ago, a mechanical failure mid-flight. He sustained fatal injuries protecting Ethan. From then on, Ethan treated caring for Lily as a debt he owed. She wanted the passenger seat—he made me get out. She wanted a plane ticket—he left me at the airport. She wanted my place—and he called it compensation. Half an hour later, I was transferred from a private room to a six-bed ward. The Ward Group project launch was playing live on the television. Lily stood in front of my cabin design model, wearing my gown. The host smiled and asked: “Ms. Scott, I hear this is a gift you’re preparing for your unborn child?” Lily touched her belly, her smile shy. “You could say that. Ethan helped me revise it many times. He said our baby deserves the safest sky.” Someone in the audience whistled. Someone asked if wedding bells were coming. Ethan didn’t correct them. He simply adjusted the microphone for Lily and said calmly: “Her standing here today is already the best answer.” Applause erupted. Everyone in my ward turned to stare at me. “Isn’t that your husband?” “The one next to him looks more like his wife—she’s even pregnant.” I tried to turn off the television, but my hand was shaking too badly to find the right button. The woman in the next bed switched it off for me and said quietly: “Don’t watch.” A message from Ethan appeared on my phone. “Launch went well. If you’d cooperated, it wouldn’t have gotten this ugly.” Below it was an electronic authorization form. In the signature field, my name was already there. I called him. “Who signed for me? You forged my signature.” His voice was perfectly even. “Schedules can’t stop because of you. Lily only signed on your behalf. Once you’ve calmed down, I’ll have legal handle the paperwork.” My abdomen clenched tight. “Stop the launch. Issue a public correction.” “Do you have any idea how much it would cost Ward Group to stop now?” “That’s my mother’s manuscript.” “Which is exactly why I made it worth more.” He paused, softening his tone. “Stop making a fuss. I’ll come stay with you tonight. Tell my assistant what you want to eat.” A bitter ache filled my chest. He always did this. Thought a scrap of tenderness could erase all the damage. Suddenly, Lily’s gasp came through the phone. “Ethan, I think I felt the baby move!” Ethan’s voice went tense immediately. “You’re only eight weeks. The baby can’t move yet. Are you uncomfortable? I’m taking you to the hospital.” He forgot to even hang up. I listened to his hurried footsteps receding, then set the phone back on the nightstand. A nurse rushed in. “Claire Ward, your contractions are worsening. We need to notify your family member to sign consent forms immediately.” On the other end, a car door slammed shut. Ethan murmured something reassuring to Lily. Then he ended the call. I stared at the darkened screen, my voice perfectly calm. “Let’s change the procedure. Terminate the pregnancy.”
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