Six Months Pregnant, My Husband Chose His Secretary Over Me

During my pre-surgery check-up, I stumbled upon a post from Lizzie on her social media.

[Another day of being spoiled by my boss! Thanks to Mr. Curran for the surprise; it really motivates me to work harder!]

The accompanying picture revealed Trent renting out an entire hot spring resort just for her. He had even arranged a “rose waterfall,” with 9,999 frozen roses, to celebrate her first New Year in New Valley.

The comments were flooded with envy and admiration.

One comment, though, caught my eye. [Why are you still calling him Mr. Curran? Shouldn’t it be hubby by now?]

I spotted Lizzie's reply, punctuated by a sheepish emoji.

[I wouldn't dare! If some old hag hears it, she'll make a scene.]

The response came quickly, sharp, and almost gleeful.

[Haha, what right does she have to cause trouble? You might not know this, but she and Trent only had a ceremony and didn't even bother to register their marriage. All it takes is one word from him, and she'll be packing her bags.]

I clicked on the commenter’s profile and recognized him as Larkin Ford, one of Trent's closest friends.

With a sigh, I liked both Lizzie’s and Larkin’s comments.

Moments later, my phone rang.

I picked it up, only to be met with Lizzie's tearful voice.

"Sister Heather, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you'd see my post..."

Before I could respond, Trent's voice replaced hers, cold and impatient.

"Don’t you have anything better to do? Spying on everyone around me, stirring up drama?"

Nearby, Larkin chimed in lazily, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Sis-in-law, I was just kidding. If it bothers you so much, I'll skip the holiday fun and come over to apologize in person."

I cut him off, my voice calm yet firm.

"There’s no need to apologize. You were simply speaking the truth."

In Trent's family, couples only registered their marriage after having a child.

When my parents discovered this, their anger was explosive, and they forbade me from continuing my relationship with Trent.

Not wanting to add more pressure, I kept this secret from my family and complied with Trent’s family's demands.

Trent hosted a small gathering with friends and arranged a simple wedding ceremony for us. In that moment, he spoke with such deep emotion.

"Even though we haven’t registered our marriage, you're the wife I've chosen. This ceremony is non-negotiable."

Tears welled in my eyes, believing I had just married happiness itself.

Little did I know, in the eyes of his friends, I was nothing more than a laughingstock.

After the surgery, I lay on the cold, sterile table, my gaze fixed on the small, lifeless form being placed into a bag, weighed with finality.

From the delivery room next door, the piercing cries of a newborn echoed, a harsh contrast to the silence in my heart.

Without a word, I signed the cremation consent form the doctor had handed me.

I stayed in the hospital for two long days. When I finally returned home, the house greeted me with an emptiness I couldn’t shake.

I unlocked my phone and scrolled through Lizzie’s social media updates.

Over the past two days, she had flooded her feed with photos of herself and Trent visiting various places.

There were pictures of him feeding her candied hawthorn, taking her to a music festival, and even carrying her on his back when she grew tired at Disneyland.

His tenderness, his patience, those same gestures he had once shown me when we first fell in love.

But I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel sadness. I only felt… numb.

I packed the baby items I had so carefully bought into a box, ready to burn them as an offering for my child.

Just as I was about to reach the door, it suddenly flew open, slamming into me.

Trent stormed in, fury blazing in his eyes.

“Heather, what have you been doing these past few days?”

The door knocked on me, and the box slipped from my hands.

Tiny onesies, sheets, and baby bowls tumbled to the floor, scattered like broken dreams.

Heartbroken, I knelt down to gather the scattered baby clothes.

Trent’s boot came down hard, crushing the delicate fabric under his heel, his teeth gritted in fury.

“I’m talking to you! Answer me!”

As I stared at the dirt smudging the tiny clothes, my heart felt as if it were being shredded. I hastily tried to wipe the stains away, my hands trembling with desperation.

He sneered his voice cold and cutting.

“Fiddling with these useless things all day. Are you just trying to remind me that you’re still carrying my child?”