For His Mistress, He Sacrificed Our Son and Me

Eight years of marriage and I had never once checked his phone.

The password was still set to my birthday.

But the wallpaper was no longer our wedding photo.

Instead, it was a picture of him, Gianna and their child, like a perfect little family.

I swallowed the bitterness clawing at my chest and opened his messages.

Thousands of photos filled the chat.

Every single one was of Felix and that child.

A memory surfaced when our son was just born; I had eagerly asked for a family photo.

But he had brushed me off without a second thought.

"Henry is too young for that. We can take one when he’s older."

Naïve as I was, I had believed he simply disliked taking pictures.

Back then, the only photo I had was one I secretly took while he slept, carefully placing our baby beside him to capture a fleeting moment of father and son.

Now, I finally understood.

It wasn’t that he hated taking pictures.

He just didn’t want to take them with my child.

My fingers trembled as I scrolled through the images, each one driving another nail into my heart.

Then, I stumbled upon a video sent just the night before our son’s birthday party.

In it, my child was pinned beneath Gianna’s son, struggling as he was bullied.

Then came a voice, Gianna’s, coated in false innocence.

"Felix, Adeline’s son, is already fighting back at such a young age. Imagine what he’ll be like when he grows up!"

"What should we do? I’m really scared!"

A violent tremor overtook my body, my grip on the phone turning unsteady.

My son had done nothing wrong.

Yet, with just one sentence from Gianna, his entire future had been ruined.

I bit down hard on my lip, forcing down the surge of hatred rising inside me.

This man was filthy. Disgusting.

And I no longer wanted him.

A cold numbness spread through me, drowning out every last ember of pain. Without hesitation, I tossed the phone aside as if merely touching it would taint me.

I picked up another, dialing a number I hadn’t called in a long time.

It rang twice before a familiar voice answered: my senior brother, the only person I could still trust.

Calmly, I asked him to help me find a hospital overseas, one that could give my son the rehabilitation treatment he deserved.

When Felix returned to the hospital room, I had just finished booking plane tickets for myself and my child. We would leave in three days.

He didn’t notice the traces of dried tears on my face nor the lingering redness in my eyes. Instead, he seized my hand, his voice brimming with excitement.

“Adeline, I want to throw another birthday party for Henry tomorrow,” he said. “At the same time, I’ll announce our decision to adopt the child. What do you think?”

I stilled.

Then, a note I had seen in his phone’s calendar resurfaced in my mind.

Tomorrow was Gianna’s child’s birthday.

My lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile. “Alright.”

Since I was leaving soon, I might as well treat this as a final farewell.

The next day, it was nearly noon when Felix finally sent someone to pick me up from the hospital.

As I stepped into the hotel, the sight before me sliced through my heart like a knife.