After My Husband Sacrificed Our Baby For His Mistress

By the time I got home, it was late, and the house felt empty. I curled up on the bed and slowly drifted into a troubled sleep.

I awoke to the sound of Ian returning home. Dawn's first light was creeping through the windows. He quietly opened the bedroom door, moving softly to avoid disturbing me. Seeing I was awake, he hurried over, gently holding my hand.

"You look so pale. Are you not feeling well?"

I looked up at him, disoriented by his presence after being apart for most of the day. His gaze was tender, genuinely concerned, making me doubt if the person I'd encountered last night was really him. But my eyes landed on the red mark on his neck, jolting me back to reality.

I turned away, unwilling to meet his gaze or speak, and slowly pulled my hand from his. Ian's hand lingered briefly before dropping to his side. He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, his voice tinged with remorse. "I'm sorry for coming back late and not being there for you."

Closing my eyes, I refused to hear his empty apologies, hiding the tears ready to spill. Ian sighed again, softly touching my forehead.

"Is the baby giving you trouble again? Just rest at home for the next few days. Don’t worry about going out... Once things settle down, I'll spend more time with you."

His words were kind, but my heart felt like it was being pierced by needles. His concern seemed rehearsed, meant for Whitley's ears.

Suppressing the grief inside, I replied coolly, "No need."

Sensing my resistance, Ian hesitated, a hurt expression crossing his face. "Are you still upset about missing the appointment? I swear it won't happen again."

He held up his fingers as if making an oath, reminiscent of our early days together. Watching this man I had loved deeply, I forced a faint smile.

"Ian, do you really love me?"

He blinked, about to answer when his phone rang. Even without the speaker, I faintly heard Whitley's tearful voice.

I couldn’t make out her words, but Ian's face was filled with worry. "Wait for me, I'll be there soon."

After hanging up, he began to dress, casting a guilty glance at me. "Whitley needs me; something's come up."

My heart sank with familiar pain. "Today is the anniversary of my parents' passing. You promised to be there."

He frowned, annoyed by my questioning. "Whitley can't see, and my brother asked me to look after her. How can I ignore that?"

"When did you become so cold?"

Whether it was my heart or the baby, sharp pain struck, forcing me to turn away so he wouldn’t see the tears.

Realizing his words might have been too harsh, he paused, softening slightly. "I’ll make it up to you once Whitley's situation is handled."

Then he rushed out, leaving the room quiet except for my heartbeat.