His First Love Killed our Baby

I took a moment to steady myself, then contacted a lawyer to draft up the divorce papers and had them sent to the hospital. Marcus Hartman was the one listed to receive them.

It wasn't until the courier called that I realized Marcus had already left the hospital. With my number blocked, I had to log into an alternate account just to ask where he was so he could sign. But just as I logged in, I saw he had a new update on his Facebook.

It was a photo—of two people, clinking beer bottles in front of the beach. The bandage on one delicate hand hadn't even been removed yet, and it stung my eyes just to look at it. Meanwhile, Marcus… Well, he never wore his wedding ring.

The carefree happiness in the image radiated from the screen. It was evident in the caption: [I can't count the times I've been thankful, turning around to find you still by my side.]

He said those exact words to me once.

I remember that night so vividly—when Vivian left Marcus to go abroad. I found him drunk, passed out on a street corner. I took him home and stayed up all night, taking care of him, washing him up, and changing his clothes. He looked at me with those blurry, drunken eyes and said, "I'm so glad you're here."

That's how we ended up together. But that felt like a lifetime ago. Things are different now. Now I'm the burden that stands in the way of his true love.

I opened our chat box, typing out a simple message.

[The divorce papers were sent to the hospital. You weren't there, so I had your colleague sign for them. Make sure you sign them when you get back.]

No sooner had I sent it than he replied with a voice message. I hesitated but played it anyway. His voice was harsh, filled with irritation.

"I've already taken time off work, and I still can't avoid you? Just because I didn't take you for your delivery prep? Seriously, Ivory, how long are you going to drag this out? Did you really have to drag my colleagues into this shit? Are you not embarrassed enough?"

"You were the one who cried about wanting a baby. What kind of a pregnant woman, about to give birth, is still getting jealous? If you won't think about yourself, at least think about the baby. You're too selfish to even be a mother."

I just stood there, stunned, as his accusations sank in. It was unbelievable how he was turning this around on me.

Just as I was about to respond, I heard her voice again—Vivian—soft and sweet, calling my husband's name.

"Hey, Marcus, look at this shell! Isn't it pretty? Let's take it home as a memory. Thanks for coming with me to the beach, even with your busy schedule. This is for you!"

As she got closer, I heard a subtle edge of nervousness in her tone.

"Oh, are you talking with Ivory?"

Maybe Marcus didn't want her to know, or maybe he just didn't want me disturbing their perfect little moment. Either way, he didn't say another word to me and stopped recording right there.

It was like the final blow, leaving me completely numb. I stared blankly at the screen, reopening that picture. The one where his life looked so easy, so free—so far removed from mine.

That's when the nurse came in to check on me. She glanced at my phone and smiled.

With a voice full of admiration, she remarked, "You still have Dr. Hartman's contact? He's really so dedicated to his patients. Most doctors wouldn't go the extra mile like that. I heard he hasn't taken a vacation in years, and now he's finally on a long break."

Yeah, even our wedding was squeezed into his lunch break. There was no wedding ceremony. No one at the hospital even knows he's married.

Looking back now, maybe this was how it was always meant to end.

I didn't say anything. I went back to our chatbox and reminded him to sign the papers, only to realize… he had blocked my second account, too.

A scoff escaped my mouth.

In the end, I stopped trying to reach him.

Instead, I began looking up what legal punishment there is for causing a pregnant woman to deliver prematurely.