After My Husband Used Me to Bear a Child, He Went Mad with Regret

After the surgery, I left the hospital immediately. By the time I came out, Max and Mandy were already gone.

Back home, I placed my hand on my now-flat stomach, and a wave of sadness washed over me.

Just moments ago, there had been a tiny life full of hope inside me. Now, it was gone.

Life is so beautiful, yet so fragile, much like the love between Max and me over the past three years.

Tears welled up again as I fought to hold back the physical and emotional pain, and I posted a message on my social media.

"Thank you for briefly bringing me hope, only to leave in such a hurry. I hope you find a better mother."

The post was accompanied by a picture of my positive pregnancy test and the notification for the painless abortion.

I thought it was just a simple way to express my feelings, but as soon as I posted it, it caused an uproar.

Most of the comments expressed sympathy, but some gossipers started asking why I had the abortion—whether something had happened between Max and me.

Some were more direct, asking if Max had cheated on me, and if that's why I terminated the pregnancy.

I didn't respond to anyone. I tossed my phone aside, not wanting to deal with it.

At that moment, Max's mother, Anna, who was still in the countryside, called me.

The second I answered, a barrage of insults followed.

"Vivian, you wretched woman! How dare you? When Max married you against our wishes, even though you couldn't bear children, we tolerated it for the sake of your father's investment in his company. But now that you could get pregnant, why would you abort the child?!"

"Did you even discuss it with Max before getting rid of the baby? That's the White family bloodline! You can't just do as you please! Wait until I get there, I'll deal with you!"

Before she could finish, my father-in-law, Tom, took the phone from her.

"Vivian, you disgrace! You've destroyed the future of the White family. You want us to be left without descendants, don't you? Divorce! You have to divorce my son. If you don't want to have children, I'll find a woman who will!"

I couldn't hold back any longer and finally spoke up.

"Don't worry. Your son is more eager than you are. He's already found someone else to have his child. That's why I aborted mine. And yes, I plan to divorce him, so you won't have to bother."

"What? My son has someone else? As long as it's a White family baby, what does it matter? But you—you rushed to abort the child. Is it because it was some other man's child, and you were scared my son would find out?"

I didn't want to argue with these relics of outdated traditions any longer, so I hung up and blocked them.

I couldn't understand why this obsession with having a son was so deeply ingrained in rural culture.

I didn't want to comment on the older generation's backward mindset, but Max, a graduate from a prestigious university, still shared their decaying values. No wonder my father was so adamantly against me marrying someone from the countryside. Some things, it seemed, were hard to change at their core.

No sooner had I hung up on my in-laws than Max called, launching into his own furious rant.

The entire White family was the same. But this time, before he could get far, I hung up on him too, blocking his number as well.

I had reached my limit. I just wanted a moment of peace.

However, not long after, Max stormed into the house, slapping me across the face.

"Vivian, who gave you the right to abort my child?!"