Nine months into my pregnancy, I found out that my husband was keeping a pregnant woman

I once believed I was the luckiest woman in the world. I believed marriage was the most solid fortress there could be.

Reality taught me otherwise. Some vows are meant only for paper. True hearts often hide in the darkest places.

A few days later, the lawyer sent me the divorce agreement.

I printed it out and signed my name on the last page. My handwriting was unnervingly steady. Then I began packing my things, preparing to move back to my mother’s home.

Just as I closed the suitcase, my phone rang.

An unfamiliar number.

When I answered, I heard Carla’s voice.

We agreed to meet at the café downstairs.

When she walked in, she looked composed and confident. She wore slim high heels and carried a shopping bag filled with items. Three months pregnant, she appeared relaxed, certain, as if she were already standing on the winning side.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she said with a smile. “You never replied to my messages.”

I lifted my coffee, my tone calm.

“Why wouldn’t I come? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Leaning back in my chair, I looked at her steadily.

“Daniel and I are legally married. I am not the one who should hide. No matter how hard a third party tries, their identity never changes.”

Her expression darkened instantly. She was about to argue, but I spoke first.

“Oh, and I should thank you.”

I smiled faintly.

“If you hadn’t taken the initiative to send me the chat records and videos, I wouldn’t have gathered all the evidence so quickly.”

She froze.

I placed a few bills under my cup and stood up, one hand supporting my belly.

“Coffee is on me.”

She suddenly stood and grabbed my arm.

“What do you mean by that?”

I pulled my arm back, my voice still steady.

“It means I don’t want him anymore.”

“If you want him, take him.”

She narrowed her eyes, as if trying to decide whether I had another motive. In the next second, she shoved me hard.

I lost my balance and fell heavily to the ground.

The pain came without warning, sharp and tearing, as if something inside me had been ripped apart. I barely had time to react before a violent contraction seized me.

Blood quickly soaked the hem of my dress.

Fear finally shattered my composure. I screamed,

“Please save my baby.”

Chaos erupted around me.

I only saw Carla stumble backward in panic before turning and fleeing.

Forcing myself to stay conscious, I asked the staff to call an ambulance. By the time I was lifted onto the stretcher, I could no longer tell whether the dampness on my skin was rain or cold sweat. My entire body was trembling uncontrollably.

In the ambulance, the nurse asked for my phone password.

After unlocking it, they called my emergency contact, Daniel.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He finally answered on the sixth call.

“Olivia?” His voice was impatient. “I’m in a meeting right now. Something urgent came up. I’ll contact you later, alright? Be good.”

Before the call ended, I clearly heard Carla’s voice in the background.

I looked away, wiped the blood from my hands, and dialed my mother’s number.

My fingers were shaking, but I forced myself to stay steady.

“Mom…” I took a deep breath. “I’m about to give birth.”

Her voice immediately became calm and firm.

“Don’t be afraid. Listen to me. Go to Riverside General Hospital. Bring your documents and follow the doctors’ instructions.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” I whispered. “Really.”

The moment I hung up, another wave of pain crashed over me like a tide.

I screamed hoarsely as cold sweat streamed down my back. My consciousness wavered between clarity and blur. I clutched the doctor’s hand with all my strength.

“Please,” I gasped, “save my child.”

I could not lose him again.

This time, no matter the cost, I would protect him.