He Chose Her In The Hurricane

The hurricane hit. I was trapped under a collapsed beam in the ruins of my downtown Miami apartment. A sharp piece of metal had pierced my abdomen, and my life was bleeding out onto the debris.

"She's been impaled! We need to get her out of here now!"

The rescue workers were scrambling toward me when my husband, Julian Sterling, suddenly lunged in another direction. "She hit her head! It's life-threatening, save her first!"

I watched him stare in panic at another young woman, Sloane. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow: he had no idea I was pregnant.

The paramedic working on me shouted, "She's losing too much blood! We can't stop it here!"

I held on, my gaze locking on Julian, pleading silently. Still, he turned to the paramedics, his voice firm. "I'm her fiancé. I'll answer for it if anything happens."

He wasn't talking about me.

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1

At Julian's command, the rescue workers hesitated for a moment before turning away from me.

With someone taking full responsibility, their decision was made.

Lying in the rubble, I could feel my blood soaking the dust beneath me. His words sent my head spinning, and a pain sharper than any metal tore through my chest.

Nearby, volunteers and paramedics murmured amongst themselves.

"This is insane. His wife is pinned down over there, and he's only worried about some other woman."

"And the crazy thing is, she's barely scratched! Demanding an ambulance when someone else is actually dying."

"My God, she has a metal rod in her abdomen, and her husband doesn't even seem to care."

Their words stung like icicles. I turned my head and saw Julian cradling the woman, Sloane Montgomery, in his arms.

On his face was a raw fear and desperation I had never seen before.

In our five years of marriage, I had never seen that look on his face.

It wasn't that he was incapable of emotion—it was that all his emotion was reserved for Sloane, leaving nothing for me.

A chill spread through my body. At this rate, I would lose the baby.

With the last of my strength, I grabbed the hand of a nurse named Chloe. "Please," I begged, "help me... I'm pregnant..."

Just then, Julian strode over, carrying Sloane. Hearing my words, he looked down at me with pure disdain.

"Still pulling stunts for attention? Pathetic. I told you, Sloane has a serious head injury. You'd really lie about being pregnant just to compete with her?"

He snapped at the paramedics, "Ignore her. She's just being dramatic. Sloane is the one in real danger; she needs a full neurological exam."

In that moment, what little strength I had left evaporated. My fingers went slack, and my hand slipped from the nurse's grasp.

She cried out, "Oh no! Her vitals are fading!"

Julian didn't even glance my way. "I already told you—I'm her fiancé. I'll take full responsibility if anything happens," he said sharply. "She's putting on a show; she won't die. All of you, focus on Sloane. If something happens to her, which one of you is going to answer for it?"

The paramedics around me wavered, then turned their full attention to Sloane.

Only Chloe, the nurse, stayed by my side, gripping my hand tightly. "Ma'am, hang in there. We'll get you out."

I struggled to keep my eyes open, fighting the darkness that crept in at the edges of my vision.

My sight began to blur, and I could feel the warmth of my own blood seeping away into the cold ground.

A single tear escaped the corner of my eye. Why did this hurt so much? Five years. We were married for five years, and when it came to life or death, he chose someone else without a second thought. Then, everything went black.

In a daze, I heard someone calling my name.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in the emergency room.

"Mrs. Sterling," Nurse Chloe said softly.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, her voice trembling as she fought back tears. "Do you have any other family we can contact? We need a signature on the surgical consent form. We've called your husband multiple times, but he's not answering."

A hollow ache bloomed in my chest. Of course he wasn't answering. He was too busy doting on Sloane to be bothered with his dying wife.

"I'll sign," I rasped, the words catching in my throat.

With every ounce of my remaining will, I gripped the pen and scrawled my name.

The pain was a tidal wave, dragging me under. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I heard nurses whispering nearby.

"Did you see that influencer they brought in? Her fiancé is treating her like royalty."

"Meanwhile, this poor woman is on death's door, and there's not a soul here for her."