Love's End Leads to New Beginnings

"I still think Gia wouldn't joke about the child…"

On the other side of the door, Millie’s sweet voice interrupted Peter’s tirade, her words dripping with mock humility and innocence.

Peter responded with disdain, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm. "Oh, don't I know Gia? She’s done countless things to manipulate and deceive and yet, my little baby, you’re the only one who can’t see it."

Relieved to have met Peter’s expectations, Millie allowed a sly, satisfied smile to creep across her face as she threw herself contentedly into his embrace, secure in his approval.

Peter's words made my heart surge with both anger and bitter curiosity.

I pricked up my ears to continue listening, when, suddenly, a frantic knock rattled the door of the duty room. The male nurse burst in, his face pale with worry.

“Doctor Peter, there’s a pregnant woman with a uterine hemorrhage who needs immediate help!”

For a fleeting moment, a rush of hope swept through me.

Could it be me? Could I still be saved?

Peter, the embodiment of confidence and composure, faltered. He stammered, fingers fidgeting and crushing the edges of a medical file in his hands.

“How is that possible? Tonight, five deliveries, four of them successful, only…” his mind churned, clearly shaken.

“Could it be Gia?” Millie gasped, her face blanching in sudden panic as she bolted toward the emergency room.

But when Millie reached the operating room, her expression twisted into one of sour disappointment as she eyed the unfamiliar face lying on the table.

The male nurse clarified quickly, "Doctor Peter, this is a high-risk case just brought in from emergency. You’re the only one here with the skill to handle it."

A bitter smile crept onto my face as I mocked myself for ever believing in Peter’s devotion.

Outside, Peter had steadied himself, his hands now deftly grasping the hemostatic forceps, poised and in control. He was back to being Doctor Peter, the well-regarded obstetrician at Central Hospital, known for his expertise and calm under pressure.

His reputation had been built on a career of skillful interventions, saving countless women and children from the brink of death.

The walls of his office and study were littered with plaques, certificates and banners lauding his achievements.

It all felt absurd now.

I, his own wife, had died under his care, my life slipping away due to his own rigid, misguided judgments.

Then came the call from the operating room, a jubilant voice crying out, “Mother and baby are safe!”

The tension of the emergency ebbed, replaced by the quiet satisfaction of another life saved.

Peter, perhaps softened by the successful delivery, appeared to fall into a daze. His gaze shifted absentmindedly toward my ward, though he couldn’t see the slow, crimson trickle pooling beyond the closed door.

If only he had stepped closer, he would have found my lifeless body marked by the silent testimony of blood, a wound deep enough to condemn.

But Peter’s small flicker of attention was cut short. Millie’s voice, sugary and possessive, broke the moment, as she sidled up to him with a coy smile, slipping her arm around his. She tugged him playfully toward the single restroom nearby.

Peter frowned, his expression a show of resistance and he gently pushed her back, as if trying to maintain some professional decorum. But it was all undone by the indulgence in his eyes, a fondness so blatant it drowned his weak refusal.

“Millie,” he said softly, as if justifying himself, “I am a doctor. Whatever Gia may have done, I must ensure she delivers safely. After that…” He trailed off, his gaze meeting hers. “After that, you’ll get what you want. Just wait a little longer.”

Millie’s face darkened, the anger sparking in her eyes barely concealed as she buried herself in his chest. Yet, in her calculated way, she soon pulled back and left a deep red mark on the side of his neck, a brazen claim of possession for anyone who cared to look.

Peter’s expression changed as he looked closer, seeing something new. His gaze lowered to the vivid mark she bore on her cheek—a bright red impression, as though from a slap, marring her otherwise flawless skin.

“What happened to you?” he demanded, his voice darkening. “You were fine just moments ago!”

His face clouded with worry and without hesitation, he took her hand and stormed off down the hall, concern blazing in his eyes. Millie’s voice dropped to a syrupy murmur, filled with false humility. “It’s nothing, as long as it makes Gia feel better.”

The tone of her words was enough to make bile rise in my throat. The implication was clear, though Millie hadn’t even stepped near my room. I realized with a cold, sinking certainty that the mark on her cheek was nothing more than lipstick, a fabrication crafted to appear as a slap.

Even so, Peter didn’t doubt her for a second.

Caught in her web, Peter’s anger turned toward me. But he never reached my door. Distracted by Millie’s whispered reassurances and feigned vulnerability, he succumbed to her manipulations with ease. She leaned into him, her lips pressing against him until his attention blurred, lost in her embrace.

Only a single wall divided us. On one side, my life fading away, an agony he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—acknowledge. On the other, my husband and his lover entwined, passionate, oblivious.

My heart ached, feeling as if it were being torn from within and my spirit swirled, helplessly trapped between the two.

Hatred surged within me—deep, resentful, consuming. How foolish I had been to believe, to give so much of myself for a man so utterly undeserving.

Tears pricked the corners of my lifeless eyes, slipping down in silent, mingling with the blood that had already sealed my fate.