Love Wanders Between First Love and Current Love

“Divorce?” Kris chuckled dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous. You really want our child to grow up fatherless?” He paused, turning to look at me. When he saw determination on my face expression, he shook his head in disbelief.

“Unbelievable.” He walked over, scooping me up and dropping me on the bed like he was doing me a favor. “There, alright? Just stay in bed and rest. You’ll be fine by morning.”

I said nothing, watching him leave. Once he was gone, I pulled out my phone and scheduled an abortion for the next day. I couldn’t do this anymore. I had to take control of my own life.

Ignoring the pain in my ankle, I hobbled to the freezer, grabbed a washcloth and chilled it until it was cold enough to use as a makeshift ice pack. I pressed it against my swollen ankle, tears streaming down my face. If he wouldn’t take care of me, then I’d take care of myself. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. It wasn’t like I was waiting for him. I just couldn’t. But just like what I had in mind, Kris didn’t come home.

At dawn, just as the sky began to lighten, a message from an unknown number came in. There were several photos, all of Kris. He was shirtless, love bites clearly visible on his neck, holding around a five-years old boy in his arms. The boy clutched a picture book while Kris read to him, his face gentle and relaxed—the very image of a doting father.

I didn’t need to ask who had sent the pictures. A moment later, a message came through.

[Fern: He really is a great dad, isn’t he?] 

My vision went blur as rage churned in my gut. I didn’t reply and I blocked the number instead.

At noon, I went to the hospital alone and had the abortion. My body was weak after the procedure and I had to rest for the entire afternoon before I could manage to walk without feeling like I’d collapse. Lying there in the sterile room, I had plenty of time to think.

I was pondering about the loss and gain I had in the way. I didn’t want my child to be born into a family poisoned by conflict. Bringing a baby into a world full of shouting parent and deceit would mean giving them a childhood starved of stability and love. If that was the life I could offer, then perhaps not giving birth was the more responsible choice. I refused to bury my head in the sand, pretending to be happy with a husband who had betrayed me, pretending that everything was okay while drowning in lies.

I decided to let go of Kris for good. I would spend the rest of my life learning how to love myself.

When I finally left the hospital, hobbling down the steps on my weak state, I saw him. Kris, standing there like the universe's cruel joke, holding a little boy in one arm and gripping a woman’s hand with the other. It was Fern, of course. The woman who had stolen everything from me. They looked like a happy little family—a picture-perfect trio standing in the afternoon sunlight.

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. A sharp, bitter laugh that echoed off the hospital walls. It was all so pathetic, so cliché.

“What a lovely family,” I said, slow claps punctuating each word, my voice filled with a cold, empty amusement.

Kris's head snapped up and I watched the panic flash across his face before he quickly let go of Fern’s hand. He looked at me with a frown, his eyes narrowing. “Elodie, what are you doing here?

“Elodie, what are you doing here?”

I gave him a thin, humorless smile. “Getting an abortion,” I said, my voice flat. I looked down at the boy in his arms, who was sticking his tongue out son now.

“Congratulations. He’s officially your father. All yours now.”

Kris froze, his face going pale. He set the boy down and stormed over to me, grabbing my arm tightly.

“What are you talking about? You got rid of our baby? Are you out of your mind, Elodie?!”

His grip was so tight I could feel my bones grinding together, but I didn't flinch. “What do you think I’m talking about?”  I yanked my arm free and, with a sick feeling in my stomach, slapped him as hard as I could.

“We’re done, Kris. I want a divorce.”

Kris was stunned by my slap, standing there frozen, his face a mix of shock and disbelief. It was Fern who rushed to his side, hands cradling his face as if he were a wounded animal. She glared at me with red-rimmed eyes, full of indignation.

“Elodie Martin! Look at what you've done to him! You’ve gone too far!” she yelled.

“Too far?” I let out a cold laugh. Without a second's hesitation, I slapped her too, hard enough that the sound echoed down the sterile hospital corridor.

“If you think that’s too far, then what do you call tearing apart someone’s marriage? Does that make you the victim now?”

Fern let out a high-pitched scream, stumbling back, clutching her cheek in shock. Her son, who had been clinging to her side, jumped in front of her, arms spread wide as if to shield her.

“Don’t hurt my mommy! You ugly witch!” he shouted, his little face scrunched up in fury.

I let out a bitter, humorless chuckle. “A witch? If I’m the ugly witch, then your mom’s the evil witch mistress, luring someone else’s husband away—“

“Enough!” Kris’s voice boomed across the hallway. He stepped forward, fury flashing in his eyes. “Why didn’t I realize how crazy you are?”

The commotion we were causing had attracted a crowd of onlookers, all whispering among themselves. I caught a few snippets—“shameless,” “homewrecker,” “disgusting”—and watched as Kris’s face went beet red with embarrassment. He lashed out, kicking a potted plant at his feet, sending it crashing to the floor.

“Elodie, nothing ever happened between me and Fern!” he shouted, pointing a shaking finger at me. “She's right—you’re out of control! I've been too soft on you and this is the result I get!”

I pulled out my phone and opened the photos Fern had sent, the ones that proved his lies. I zoomed in and showed them to the crowd, making sure everyone saw the damning evidence. “Take a good look, everyone,” I said, my voice cutting through the tense silence. “This is my husband—half-naked at this woman’s place in the middle of the night. Can you see those marks on his neck? Don’t tell me they’re mosquito bites!” I raised an eyebrow, daring him to lie. There was an uproar.