My Husband Fed Me Birth Control for Five Years

The crisp slap echoed through the hospital room.

Both of them went cold at the same time.

Adrian’s gaze darkened. “Have you had enough?”

“And isn’t this outcome exactly what you wanted?” Layla added, her voice sharp.

Layla immediately burst into tears, delicate and pitiful, the kind that looked practiced.

“Brooke, how can you say that about me?” she sobbed. “The hospital handed out the wrong medicine. How would I have known?”

“I know you’re upset because you lost the baby,” she went on, wiping her cheeks. “But you can’t just take all that anger out on me!”

Adrian yanked her behind him in one swift motion, shielding her as he glared at me.

“Brooke, that’s enough!”

“I already explained the medicine situation,” he snapped. “It has nothing to do with Layla. No matter how devastated you are, that’s not a reason to put your hands on someone.”

My nails dug into my palm. I was shaking, so angry I could barely get air into my lungs.

“I’m the one who lost the child!” I shouted, cutting him off. “I’m also the one who was rushed into surgery and nearly died! Why don’t I have the right to ask?”

Then I stared him down, every word tearing out of my throat. “Adrian, do you dare swear you have nothing to do with her? Not even a little?”

His face twisted with anger. “You’re being completely unreasonable!”

“I’m completely clean with Layla,” he said, his voice rising. “I swear it. If I ever betray you, may I get struck by lightning and die a miserable death!”

“Is that enough?” he shouted. “What else do you want from me? Say it!”

He strode toward the window, eyes blazing.

“Should I jump out of here. Would that be enough? The baby’s dead. If I die too, will you finally be happy?”

He spun back toward me, disgust written all over his face.

“Brooke, look at you right now. How are you any different from a crazy shrew?”

After that outburst, his chest heaved violently.

I couldn’t believe those words had come out of his mouth.

It felt like my heart was squeezed in a fist, then ripped open without mercy.

And then, as if he realized he’d gone too far, his voice softened, just slightly.

“Layla and I still have work to discuss,” he said. “You calm down on your own first.”

“Let the past be the past,” he added flatly. “There’s no point arguing anymore.”

Then the two of them turned and walked out of the room together.

...

My hands trembled as I pulled out the IV needle.

Then, moving as quietly as I could, I followed.

In the stairwell, they didn’t even try to hide it. Their arms wound around each other as they kissed hungrily, like they’d been starving.

Their ragged breathing didn’t stop for a long time.

Layla giggled and pouted, lightly punching his chest like a spoiled little complaint.

“You’re awful. You were so harsh just now. You scared me.”

Adrian frowned, but his hands were already holding her close.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come? Brooke’s emotions are unstable. You just had to show up. What if I couldn’t protect you?”

Layla laughed sweetly and melted into his arms, reaching up to pinch him playfully.

“Then let Brooke hit me. Worst case, no one takes care of you.”

She tilted her head, blinking up at him like she was the injured party.

“As long as you don’t feel sorry for me, that’s fine.”

He let out a low, helpless chuckle.

“You… you really are a little demon heaven-sent to torture me.”

Layla’s voice turned syrupy, intimate.

“Adrian… I missed you.”

“This time, I prepared a surprise for you,” she whispered. “You’ll have to come unwrap it yourself…”

His breathing turned heavy in an instant. Desire flashed in his eyes.

“What gift?” he asked, his voice rough.

Layla smiled, her lips curving with meaning.

“The one you want the most…”

...

Before they came back, I was already lying in bed again, pulled under the blanket like nothing had happened.

But inside, the pain of betrayal and deception swept away what little rationality I had left.

Layla didn’t come back into the room.

Adrian only tossed out a cold sentence before leaving again.

“When I’m done with work, I’ll come pick you up for discharge. Rest and recover.”

As expected, he never came back.

I handled the discharge paperwork myself and took a cab home.

That night, Adrian texted to say he had to go abroad on a three-day business trip.

Under it, there was a transfer of $500,000 labeled as compensation.

In the adult world, most anger can’t be said out loud, and most dignity can’t afford to be torn apart in public.

Numbly, I looked at the wedding photo beside the bed.

He was holding me on the beach, smiling with arrogant brilliance. It felt like the sea breeze in that picture still carried warmth.

But whatever we had, we could never go back.

Five years ago, we’d loved each other fiercely, loudly.

Back then, he chased me so openly that everyone knew.

Whenever people in our circle mentioned Adrian, they always joked with a grin:

“Adrian Fitzwilliam? Of course, we know him. He’s the Ashford family’s eldest miss’s loyal lapdog, isn’t he?”