Destructed by Love

As soon as I accepted the friend request, Maya posted something.

It was a photo of her and Elowen, with her holding the baby that had been living in my belly for nine months.

The caption read. “Our family of three is reunited.”

I knew she posted it for me to see. When I scrolled down, I realized that these five years of my marriage were actually all related to Maya.

On the day I married Elowen, Maya posted a photo of our wedding bed with the caption.

“Sleep peacefully. This bed has already been tested by me and him and the quality is excellent.”

After my first miscarriage, when I was lying in the operating room being resuscitated, Maya also posted a photo of Elowen’s back as he was busy in the kitchen, with the caption.

“Having a brother is really great. I just mentioned period pain and he ran all the way overseas to take care of me.”

But that day, he told me he was on a business trip abroad and couldn’t come to take care of me.

The three miscarriages that followed all coincided with the days Maya posted on her photos. Every post was about how Elowen pampered her, either accompanying her to build a boring block tower, watching the aurora with her, or taking pictures of priceless gemstone necklaces for her.

As for me, he always brushed me off with different work excuses, leaving me to face the cold, lonely operating table alone. Meanwhile, I felt sorry for him, thinking his work pressure was too much and I told him to focus on handling things abroad without worrying about me.

Looking back now, I realize I was quite considerate, always clearing the way for them to have time to love each other.

I had no interest in scrolling further. After wiping away the tears from the corner of my eyes, I dialed my best friend’s phone in Yvermont State.

“You asked me before if I was willing to come over there as a dance consultant. I’ve thought about it and I want to go.”

“That’s great! Make sure you prepare well. I’ll come to pick you up in five days.”

After hanging up the phone, I contacted a local lawyer and asked them to prepare a divorce agreement for me.

For three consecutive days, Elowen didn’t come to see me, but Maya’s posts were constantly updated with their family of three’s daily life.

It wasn’t until the fourth evening that Elowen pushed a wheelchair into my hospital room and his first words were an apology. “Sorry, baby. There was an issue at the company these past few days and I’ve been too busy to come see you. But as soon as I finished, I came straight here to see you.”

His tone was sincere and earnest, with no hint of insincerity.

If it hadn’t been for the countless hickeys I saw beneath his collar, I might have been deceived by him once again.