After My Husband Chose His Mistress Over Our Dying Daughter

Damien worked at a seed company, technically employed, but he often shirked his duties, rarely showing up for his shifts. He possessed a remarkable artistic talent; the mural at the train station in our small town was his creation, painted with care and earning quite a bit of attention and the introduction to those so-called artists.

In reality, these meetings were just excuses to hit the nightclubs, drinking and dancing, mingling freely without a care. During this time, he met Gwendolyn Ellis, a singer at one of the clubs. Since then, his friends would regularly invade our home, treating it like their personal dining hall, with me playing the role of the hostess.

I grumbled to Damien about it, but he dismissed me, saying, “You don’t get art at all; it’s like a symphony of souls working together for the good of the family. When I become famous, you’ll be living the high life.”

Once, my love for him made me put up with everything in hopes of a bright future together. But now, I had no reason to endure such humiliation any longer.

I stepped into the kitchen and quickly made myself a simple chicken noodle soup, retreating to my room to eat. They waited for a long time, and when no food was served, Damien came in looking for me. He saw me eating alone and, frustrated, shattered the bowl.

“So, you’re just looking out for yourself, huh? Leaving all of us hungry?”

I comforted my crying daughter, my gaze cold as I met his eyes. “Damien, we’re getting divorced tomorrow. I’m done serving you and your friends.”

He was taken aback. Since we started dating, I’d never spoken to him so bluntly. He seemed to grasp something was wrong, his tone mellowing a bit. “Didn’t we agree that after Gwendolyn has the baby, we’d get back together? It’s not like we’re truly separating.”

Before I could speak, the crew walked in, stirring up trouble. “Hey, what’s with the attitude? Are we not welcome anymore? Damien, aren’t you going to step in? You’re such a pushover.”

Gwendolyn’s eyes filled with tears quickly, “She’s not pushing you guys away; it’s me she doesn’t want here. Damien, don’t let me spoil your friendships. I’ll just go and… end the pregnancy.”

Damien, ever concerned about appearances, couldn’t handle the pressure from the group. In his anger, he slapped me, knocking me off the chair onto the floor, my daughter falling with me, crying out loud.

Panicked, I picked her up, noticing her flushed face. I was immediately worried, “Damien, her crying doesn’t sound right. I need to take her to the hospital!”

I scrambled to my feet, ready to bolt, but they blocked my path. Jalen scoffed, “Kids fall and get bumps all the time; it’s normal. Don’t be so dramatic.”

I glared at Damien. “Get them to move! Damien, she’s your daughter too. Can you really stand by and let this happen?”

My daughter’s cries weakened, her face turning from red to a dark blue. Desperate, I grabbed a pair of scissors from the table, pointing them at Gwendolyn's neck. “Move, or I’ll do it!”

Gwendolyn’s face went white with fear as she clutched her belly and backed away, “Damien, I’m scared; my stomach hurts.”

Damien reacted instantly, viciously kicking me in the stomach, sending me sprawling, my daughter falling silent on the ground. But he quickly picked up Gwendolyn, cradling her, “I’ll take you to the hospital; I won’t let anything happen to our child.”

The group quickly followed him out. Despite the pain, I clutched my daughter and rushed to the hospital with every ounce of strength I had.