After You Killed Me, I Chose Myself

Byron didn't know I was pregnant too.

With the very child he'd once longed for, prayed for, night after night.

The next morning, we went to the courthouse together and filed our divorce application.

The thirty-day cooling-off period had to pass before the divorce would be final.

Walking out of the courthouse, I saw Byron's car parked at the curb.

Dora was in the passenger seat, cradling a bouquet of bright red roses.

She pushed the door open and bounded toward him like a giddy bird, roses clutched to her chest as she threw herself into his arms.

“Happy divorce day!”

“Don't run like that. You've still got a baby in there.”

Dora gave a little hum of a laugh：“You worry too much. Our baby's tough. I've taken him rock climbing, skiing, everything since I got pregnant. He's perfectly fine.”

Byron played along, good-natured as ever：“True. The baby takes after you. Full of life.”

I stood there cold-eyed, watching them carry on—all the touching, the teasing.

Two minutes later, my ride pulled up.

I was about to get in when Dora called after me.

“Vera.”

I didn't turn around. I only stopped.

Behind me, Dora raised her voice：“I just want you to know, love doesn't follow a first-come-first-served rule. I have nothing to apologize to you for.”

People streamed in and out of the courthouse doors. I didn't argue. I kept my voice flat：“Noted.”

I pulled the back door open and got in.

In the rearview mirror, Byron and Dora grew smaller, blurring into nothing.

I don't know how long the drive took. The car stopped in front of a hospital.

I looked down at the faint swell of my belly, then paid the fare and stepped out.

I'd spent all night thinking it through, and I still didn't want this child.

Even though part of me had wanted him to come.

In the end, reason won.

Byron's assets were enormous. My share of the settlement was enough to live comfortably for several lifetimes, and raising a child wouldn't be a problem. It might even have been something good.

But I didn't want to.

All I had left for Byron was hate. No love.

If this child came into the world, every time I looked at him I would think of what Byron did to me.

I couldn't betray myself.

The procedure was quick. I could feel the child leaving my body, bit by bit.

I didn't cry.

I didn't even feel sad.

Recovery after a termination still required proper rest. I didn't rush home. I checked into the best private room the hospital had and hired two nurses to look after me around the clock, day and night.

I slept through the afternoon.

When I woke, I saw that David James, Byron's closest friend, had called me over and over.

I called him back.

He picked up almost immediately.

“Vera, why aren't you doing something about Byron? Dora's reckless, fine, but he's going right along with her. Do you even know where they're headed? The southern Himalayas!”

“Byron and I are getting divorced.”

Silence on the other end. Then：“I know. He told me. But the thirty-day cooling-off period isn't up yet, is it? Technically you two are still married.”

I was fed up. I held the phone away from my ear.

“Vera, I wouldn't be calling you if I had any other option. I've checked the weather in the southern Himalayas. Conditions are terrible right now. If Byron and Dora go up that mountain, they might not come back.”

“None of us can talk him out of it. He says he's hired the best local guide, plus a full medical team and a rescue team. Says nothing will go wrong.”

“Vera, they're already at the airport waiting to board. I'm begging you. Find a way to stop him. If something really happens to him, what about his company? What about the thousands of people who work for him?”