Leaving My Husband Behind: My Freedom, His Loss

I immediately hung up the phone without letting the assistant explain further.

I did not need to hear another word, since I knew Lewis had chosen to pick up Ruby instead of accompanying me to the gynecologist.

It was not a nightmare. Ruby’s return was real, and with it, every ounce of hope I had held onto was slipping through my fingers.

I sighed deeply, my chest heavy with hurt, but it was not the first time I had been betrayed by the people around me.

Hiding my emotions, I turned to the maid and said coldly, “Prepare the car. I need to go to the hospital immediately.”

“Yes, madam,” she replied, scurrying off to fulfill my request.

I left the garden house and made my way to the front door, determined to go alone.

I did not care anymore about Lewis or what he was doing. I just needed to know that my baby was okay.

The drive to the hospital was agonizingly slow. The traffic was unusually congested, turning what should have been a thirty-minute trip into an hour-long ordeal.

As I sat in the backseat, gazing out the window, my heart clenched when I spotted someone familiar. On the second floor of a restaurant, clearly visible through the large glass windows, were Lewis and Ruby.

They sat close, their faces glowing with affection as they looked into each other’s eyes.

My stomach churned as I watched Ruby lean forward, feeding Lewis a bite of her food. He smiled, returning the gesture lovingly.

And then, as if to twist the knife deeper, they kissed. A soft, intimate kiss that they did not care to hide from anyone who could see them through the see-through window.

Tears blurred my vision, spilling freely down my cheeks as our car moved away from the street.

I clutched my stomach, whispering silently to my baby, “I’m so sorry you have to go through this with me.”

When we finally arrived at the hospital, my legs felt weak as I stepped out of the car. Determined to move forward, I walked to the front desk to register.

But before I could utter a word to the receptionist, a wave of nausea hit me hard.

I turned on my heel and rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the sink before I emptied my stomach.

My tears mixed with the sweat on my brow as I vomited again and again, as though my body was expelling not just the food I had eaten, but the bitterness and anger that had consumed me.

Clenching the sink tightly, I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror, my throat burning with bile and frustration.

It was all too much to bear since it seemed Ruby was reclaiming the life she had left behind. The life I had been forced to take on.

Piece by piece, she was taking everything from me, and I was powerless to stop her.

I did not know how long I stayed in the bathroom, venting my sadness and anger in solitude.

When I finally left, I felt too defeated to see the gynecologist. Instead, I walked straight out of the hospital and ordered the driver to take me home.

As we drove, I placed my hand on my stomach, a new resolve building within me.

I could not afford to be weak anymore. The baby growing inside me deserved better.

I needed to find the courage to tell Lewis about the pregnancy and demand my place as his wife.

When we arrived home, I stepped inside, ready to face Lewis. But what greeted me in the living room made my blood run cold.

Lounging on the sofa, her legs crossed as she sipped tea like she owned the place, was Ruby. Her polished appearance and smug demeanor contrasted sharply with the turmoil brewing in my chest.

She glanced at me lazily, her lips curling into a smirk.

“Hi, nerd sister,” she greeted, her tone dripping with mockery. She did not bother to stand, her confidence radiating like a shield of superiority.

Her presence hit me like a slap of cold water. After two years of trying to erase her from my mind, here she was—Ruby Gilmore.

The name we once shared. The face that mirrored mine.

I scanned the room, my heart clinging to a faint hope. Maybe Lewis had only brought her home so she could join me for the appointment. Maybe he was somewhere in the house, waiting to go to the hospital with me.

But Ruby’s piercing voice crushed that hope instantly.

“What are you looking for? Lewis?” she asked, her smirk growing wider. “I’m sad too because he just dropped me here and left. Apparently, he had some sudden meeting.”

Ruby took another sip of her tea and added nonchalantly, “But don’t worry. He promised to come back home on time with a present for me. I’m willing to wait for him, of course.”

Her words, casual yet pointed, felt like knives digging into my chest. My nails dug into my palms as I stood frozen in place, my mind swirling with anger, betrayal, and despair.

Ruby’s sharp eyes scanned me from head to toe, her lips curling into a smirk.

“Anyway,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery, “you really do look like me two years ago. Our parents have done quite the job turning you into my carbon copy.”

“But, unfortunately,” She chuckled. “Lewis still doesn’t love you, does he? Haha.”

Her words hit like daggers, but Ruby did not stop.

She stood up and tilted her head while walking toward me, “Tell me, is your hair dyed, or are you still wearing wigs like when we were teenagers?

“And those eyes…are you wearing contact lenses? Because there’s no way you could walk around without those thick glasses of yours, right?”

I said nothing, letting her words hang in the air. Yes, I was the nerd sister, the one who never measured up.

Even though we were twins, we could not have been more different.

Ruby was the perfect, beautiful one—the golden child. I was the opposite, the albino sister with severe nearsightedness since birth.

My natural hair was blonde, not the rich brunette shared by Ruby and our parents. My eyes were a pale, unremarkable grey, a stark contrast to Ruby’s vibrant hazel ones.

Everything about me was the antithesis of what our parents valued. So, since I was young, my parents had tried to turn me into Ruby’s shadow.

I wore wigs to match her hair, contact lenses to mimic her eyes. My pale skin, always so starkly different, was hidden beneath stockings, long sleeves, and layers of foundation at every family event.

And so, it was no surprise that Ruby walked to me just to snatch the wig on my head with her smirk widening.

“But what can I say? You’ve done a pretty good job changing yourself to look like me. Too bad, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never actually be me,” she said, her voice cutting.