My Husband Begged on Bended Knees After Ruining my Heart

"Once you’re gone?" His voice was smooth, laced with suspicion. “Who are you talking to, Isla?”

I turned slowly to see Mateo leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, his brows slightly raised.

“What are you saying?” he asked again.

I swallowed hard and shut off my phone. “Nothing,” I said flatly, sliding the device beneath my blanket as if it hadn’t just sealed my fate.

“Nothing?” He chuckled, stepping in. “You said, ‘Once I’m gone.’ Are you leaving?”

I met his gaze, forcing my voice to stay steady. “No. I just meant… once I’m gone from the hospital. When I’m discharged.”

His eyes narrowed. “You sure?” He walked over and held his hand out. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“Just give it to me.”

I didn’t argue. I handed it over and watched as he tapped the screen. “What’s your password?”

I hesitated. Then I said, “My birthday.”

He typed quickly, but then his eyes darkened. “It’s not working. January 26, right?”

I let out a bitter chuckle. “That’s not my birthday.”

His head snapped up. “What?”

“That’s Layla’s birthday.”

His face drained of color, like someone had slapped the truth into him. “I… I just mixed it up.”

“Right,” I muttered.

He cleared his throat. “You seem suspicious. Are you… cheating on me?”

I blinked, stunned by the audacity. “Cheating on you?” I laughed, bitter and sharp, the sound slicing through the sterile hospital air. “Where’s that coming from?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, too casually. “I heard someone already paid your hospital bills. And it wasn’t me. They said it was a guy!”

For a second, I just stared at him. Cheating? When it had been him all along—sneaking around, lying through his teeth, whispering promises to Layla behind my back. I had seen the signs, ignored them, convinced myself I was being paranoid. And now he had the nerve to accuse me?

But I didn’t argue. What was the point?

“Then maybe you should ask yourself why it wasn’t you,” I snapped, keeping my voice steady even when it wanted to crack. “Maybe it was a stranger. Or maybe…” I met his gaze, unblinking. “Maybe it was you who’s been cheating.”

His jaw tightened. But before he could fire back, his phone lit up and I saw the name. Bold. Familiar. Layla.

He stared at it, then looked at me. “It’s business.”

“I thought you were driving me home.”

He nodded absently. “Something came up. My driver’s waiting downstairs. Just head to the car. I’ll see you at home.”

And then he left. No apology. No goodbye. Not even a backward glance.

I stared at the empty doorway for a full minute before finally standing up. The last thread of whatever was left between us had snapped.

I walked down the corridor alone, the cool air biting at my skin. But just before I reached the exit, I heard it—familiar laughter echoing from the hallway.

I stopped.

Turned.

And there they were.

Mateo and Layla.

She was leaned against him, smiling, one hand resting gently on her belly. His hand moved protectively over hers as he kissed her forehead and whispered something that made her giggle.

I didn’t breathe. I didn’t cry.

I just stood frozen, clutching my chest where a heartbeat used to live.

Then Layla looked up and saw me.

Her lips curled into a wicked smirk, as if this entire thing had been staged for my destruction. And just like that, she leaned in and kissed Mateo. Not discreetly. Not shyly. She kissed him like she wanted me to see. Like she was proud.

Mateo didn’t pull away.

He didn’t even look around.

I turned on my heel and walked out of the hospital.

The driver was waiting, but I didn’t speak a word on the ride home. The world outside the window blurred into static. My ears rang with the echo of her laughter. The same laugh I grew up with. The one I used to adore.

I went straight to the bedroom.

To the closet. To every drawer, every shelf, every box that carried remnants of him—of us.

The designer bags he gave me on anniversaries. The dresses he picked for me on trips. The love notes he used to leave by my pillow.

I pulled them out one by one, dragging them to the fireplace. My hands moved on their own, tossing pieces of our five-year history into the flames. I watched as the silk burned, as ink turned to ash.

And just when I thought I had nothing left to break—

My phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen.

Layla. With trembling fingers, I opened the message.

It was a photo. Of her kissing Mateo. Again. This time on our balcony. The one where he used to hold me during late-night talks about building a family.

Beneath the photo, a message: Oops. Sorry. But he’s mine now. You stole him from me before, Isla. I’m just taking back what’s mine. I hope you don’t mind. But you better leave soon.

My vision blurred. The last flame in my soul turned to wildfire.

I clenched my jaw and typed back: Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon. And when I do, I’ll make all of you regret ever touching my life.

I hit send. In just a few more days, I’ll be gone…