Left Behind on My Wedding Day

As soon as the words left his mouth, I hung up and blocked his number immediately.

Silence. That was all I wanted—for my child’s final journey to be untainted.

Lying on the cold operating table, I stared up at the stark white lights, their harsh glow making my eyes burn.

Anne’s social media updates continued relentlessly. Each vibrant photo was a loud declaration of joy.

As the child was taken from me, Anne posted a photo of a diamond Evan had bid for at the highest price during an auction. In the next photo, they were passionately kissing amidst a crowd’s applause, the comments below filled with heartfelt congratulations. It all painted a picture-perfect romantic scene.

I lay on the hospital bed, feeling like both my body and heart had been hollowed out, bleeding endlessly.

During my recovery, Evan tried to call me countless times, but I had blocked him on every platform.

Eventually, he turned to my family.

They barged into my hospital room, not to ask why I was there, but to pressure me instead.

"Claire, you’re a married woman who is about to have a child. What’s the point of leaving him now?"

I shot back without hesitation.

"I’ll be fine without him. The real question is, can you let go of his money?"

"How dare you talk like that!" my father barked, hands on his hips. "My son-in-law can spend his money however he wants. Supporting me is his obligation!"

"Is that so? Then why did you also take every last penny of mine? Why did you leave me stranded in the rain without enough to call a cab? Am I even your daughter?" My voice trembled with rage, and I yelled at them, my hands shaking.

He faltered for a moment, guilt flashing across his face.

However, my brother shamelessly chimed in,

"You should be giving money to Mom and Dad! They worked so hard to raise you. Don’t tell me you think you’ve repaid that debt!"

My mother, ever dramatic, plopped onto the floor and began wailing.

"Oh, look at what a wonderful daughter I raised! Married off and now she doesn’t care about her parents anymore!"

By then, patients from neighboring rooms had gathered to watch the spectacle. A nurse stepped in with a stern expression and firmly warned, "This is a hospital. Keep the noise down."

They were finally dragged out of the room, but not before leaving me with a venomous warning: if I divorced Evan, they wouldn’t return a single cent of the wedding expenses, leaving me to figure out how to pay off the debt myself.

Moments later, a message lit up my phone. It was from Evan, sent using Anne’s account.

"You see it now, don’t you? Your family doesn’t love you. No one in this world will ever love you except me."

Because of my difficult upbringing, I had always been deeply insecure, too afraid to let anyone know the truth. Only after meeting Evan had I dared to open up about my family.

Back then, his eyes were full of pity, and he whispered countless promises in my ear, assuring me he would love me enough to make up for everything I lacked.

But over time, that promise twisted into something darker: the idea that only he could ever love me.

There was a time when those words would have terrified me, leaving me awake all night, haunted by dreams of abandonment.

But now, I silently told myself, “It’s okay, Claire. I love you.”

The first step in loving myself was cutting off everyone who tried to manipulate me.

I blocked every contact I had with my family and Evan. Then I washed the tear stains from my face with warm water and closed my eyes for the first peaceful sleep I’d had in years.

On the day I was discharged, I went home to pack my belongings.

To my surprise, Evan returned with Anne. I had assumed he’d spend the entirety of our honeymoon with her, but there he was, back the very next day.

He glared at the box in my hands, his expression dark.

"Claire, I heard you were sick. I transferred through multiple flights overnight to rush back. Isn’t that proof enough of how much I love you? What more do you want?"

I didn’t look at him, calmly continuing to pack my things. My voice was steady as I said, "I want a divorce."