Eight Months Pregnant, I Left My Cheating Husband Behind

The nurse forced herself to stay calm as she finished her rounds, then left the room.

Elijah took my hand, his face all helpless patience.

"Sweetheart, are you still angry?"

"You're flooded with pregnancy hormones right now. Your emotions are all over the place, that's the only reason you're so hostile toward Jenny. I'm just afraid that once the baby comes and you're yourself again, you'll regret all of this. That's why I want you to go and apologize to her."

I finally couldn't take it anymore, and let out a cold laugh.

"Elijah, I'm pregnant, not possessed. Stop blaming everything on hormones, would you?"

"Whether you and Jeanette Gomez have crossed a line, you know perfectly well in your own—"

Slap.

I didn't get to finish. A slap landed hard across my face.

My head snapped to the side, my ears ringing, the rest of the words jammed in my throat.

Elijah froze too. Panic and regret flashed through his eyes, and he instinctively opened his mouth to explain.

But I'd already raised my hand and slapped him back, just as hard.

The crisp sound of it rang out sharp in the room.

He turned his head aside, ran his tongue over his stinging cheek, his face taut with barely contained irritation.

"Beryl, calm yourself down. Stop talking nonsense."

Then he turned, slammed the door, and left.

I finally couldn't hold it in any longer. I bit down hard on the back of my hand and let the tears pour out.

That slap felt like it had shattered the last scrap of tenderness I'd been holding on to.

For the next week, I stayed in the hospital to save the pregnancy.

In three more days, I'd be leaving.

In that whole week, Elijah never came to see me once.

I knew what he was doing. He was waiting for me to cave first, the way I always had. To apologize first. To come coax him back.

Too bad. That used to work on the old Beryl. On who I was now, it didn't work anymore.

On the day of my discharge, Elijah finally showed up. His face was dark, and without a word he handled the paperwork, then pulled me into the car.

It was the first time he'd ever turned that cold face on me. Before this, he'd always worn the mask of the gentle, attentive husband.

An uneasy feeling rose in me out of nowhere. I reached for the door at once.

"Elijah, where are you taking me? Stop the car!"

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"To the chapel. To pray."

Pray?

The unease grew heavier. I quickly pulled out my phone to make a call.

But the moment it was in my hand, Elijah snatched it away and tossed it onto the back seat.

My heart dropped.

The whole way there, no matter how I pressed him, he wouldn't answer.

Until the car stopped outside the chapel.

Several large bodyguards were already standing at the entrance.

I was half-dragged to the altar.

Cradling my belly, I was shaking so hard my voice trembled.

"Elijah, what exactly do you want? I'm still pregnant!"

Elijah turned slowly. His eyes were bloodshot, the disappointment and fury in them nearly spilling over.

He bit off each word.

"Kneel. Kowtow. Pray for Jenny's surgery to go well."

I could hardly believe my own ears.

"What surgery? Why should I kneel?"

Elijah smiled, and it was ice-cold.

"You're still going to play innocent?"

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and forced me down onto the prayer cushion.

"You messaged Jenny. You told her no one loves her, that she never should have been born, called her a whore, told her to go die."

"She slit her wrists. Do you understand that?"

"She's in surgery right now. If you repent with real sincerity, maybe she'll live."

It struck me as absurd to the point of laughable, and my heart sank hard.

"I never did that!"

I instinctively went to grab my phone to prove it, then remembered with a jolt that he'd already taken it.

I lifted my head, teeth clenched so tight they might crack.

"Elijah, do you honestly believe I would do something like that?"

He looked away and didn't answer.

But his silence was answer enough.

He didn't believe me.

Twenty years growing up side by side, and it counted for nothing.

I was his wife. The mother of his child.

And still he'd rather trust Jeanette Gomez than believe a single word from me.

Elijah waved his hand.

The bodyguards stepped forward at once and pinned me down.

My forehead struck the hard, cold floor tiles again and again.

And Elijah knelt right beside me, both hands gripping a new lucky charm, eyes shut, praying over and over for Jeanette to be safe.

I don't know how long it went on before the hospital finally called.

"Mr. Delgado, Miss Gomez is awake."

Elijah was on his feet almost instantly, turning to run out.

Before he left, he threw out one line.

"Keep her bowing. She stops when I call and say stop, not before."

My forehead had long since split open, blood trickling slowly down my cheek.

The bodyguards' faces changed at the sight. None of them dared force me anymore, but none dared take me to the hospital on their own either.

All I could do was grab one of them by the hand, my voice shaking.

"Help me. Take me to the hospital..."

The man's face twisted with the dilemma, but his first move was still to pull out his phone and call Elijah.

The call connected fast. But what I heard on the other end was ragged, breathless panting.

Jeanette's voice came through, thick with tears, pitiful.

"Elijah, I can't control myself. I really can't stop loving you, stop wanting you."

"Look at me... kiss me, please?"