My Husband Planned to Kill Our Baby to Save His Lover

That should have been the end of it.

But just then, a child at the next table suddenly collapsed, his body convulsing violently as he fell off his chair. White foam frothed at his mouth, his limbs jerking uncontrollably.

His family panicked, their faces stricken with fear. It was clear they had never encountered this before. Desperate, they called for help, but I knew the child wouldn’t last until the ambulance arrived.

Without hesitation, I stepped forward.

I quickly placed chopsticks horizontally into his mouth to prevent him from biting his tongue, then began administering first aid. Slowly, his convulsions subsided, and the foaming stopped—but his eyes remained unfocused, dazed.

I turned to his parents. “Take him to the hospital now while he’s stable.”

But before they could react, Faye suddenly rushed forward.

She shoved me aside, stuffed a pill into the child’s mouth, and gently wiped his face with a tissue, her movements practiced and careful.

Moments later, the child blinked, his consciousness returning. His family sighed in relief, their panic melting into gratitude. They turned to thank me—only for Faye to step in, blocking their way.

“I’m a doctor,” she declared with a warm, reassuring smile. “It’s my duty to save lives. I’ve given him medicine, and he won’t have another attack. If you ever need help again, just come find me at the Pioneer Medical Center.”

Her words immediately captured their attention. A doctor. The one who saved their child. They showered her with thanks, their relief turning into admiration.

I clenched my fists, anger simmering beneath my skin.

After they left, I stepped forward and grabbed Faye’s wrist. “How can epilepsy be cured with just one pill? You should have told them to go straight to the hospital! What if the child has another seizure?”

I didn’t yell. My voice was steady, controlled.

But Faye acted as if I had struck her.

Her eyes turned red, brimming with unshed tears as she ran to Tristan, her voice trembling with grievance.

“Brother… why is Sister-in-law like this? I was only trying to save a life, and she’s accusing me instead.”

Tristan’s gaze snapped to me, his expression darkening with impatience.

“Eliza,” he sighed, his tone carrying the weight of irritation. “Faye is a doctor. She knows more than you—a full-time wife. Isn’t it a bit much for you to act like you know better than her?”

Yes.

I am just a housewife now—someone who only knows how to make money around men, while Faye stands at the pinnacle of medicine. Even if my way of saving people was correct, who would trust an ordinary woman like me over an esteemed expert like her?

I lowered my head, swallowing the bitterness rising in my throat. The sadness pressed down on my chest, but I forced myself to stay silent.

Tristan must have noticed my mood shift because he reached out, as if to comfort me—

But then, Faye suddenly clutched her chest and staggered, her face twisting in pain.

“Tristan… my heart… it hurts… I think my heart disease is flaring up again…” she whimpered, her body collapsing dramatically onto the floor.

Tristan hesitated for only a second.

Even if her exaggerated act was transparent, his reaction was instinctual—without thinking, he rushed to her side, scooped her into his arms, and carried her out.

It was only when I heard the roar of the car engine outside that I realized—he had left.

Without me.

The skies opened up, and heavy rain poured down in sheets, drenching everything in sight. I stood there in the doorway, shivering, my clothes sticking to my skin as I watched his car disappear down the road.

He didn’t look back.

I hadn’t brought an umbrella, and taxis were nowhere to be seen. With no other choice, I started walking.

The road home stretched endlessly before me. The rain blurred my vision, and my body—already weakened by pregnancy—stumbled more than once. I fell hard, my palms scraping against the cold pavement, my knees bruising. But I forced myself to stand and keep going.

By the time I reached home, my whole body was frozen, feverish.

That night, I burned with illness, drifting in and out of consciousness. In my dazed state, I reached for my phone and dialed Tristan’s number.

The call connected, but instead of his voice, I heard a familiar, sweet tone.

“Sister-in-law, are you looking for my brother?” Faye’s voice was laced with feigned innocence, but the smugness underneath was unmistakable. “He’s cooking for me right now. He doesn’t have time to answer the phone.”

I froze.

In the two years we had been married, Tristan had never once cooked for me.

Not even when I was sick. Not even when I was carrying his child.

But for Faye?

Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, but I didn’t bother wiping them away.

I had been foolish. So, so foolish.

I had actually thought that if I got sick in front of Faye, if she saw me weak and vulnerable, it would make Tristan realize my importance.

But the truth was—

I had never been important to him at all.

For two days, Tristan didn’t return home. Not a single call, not even a text.

Yet, Faye’s social media was filled with posts—pictures, updates, little snippets of their time together. Cooking together. Eating together. Laughing together.

As if she wanted the whole world to know.

As if she wanted me to see.

By the third day, my fever had finally subsided. And just as I thought things couldn’t be any more absurd—

An invitation arrived.

It was for Faye’s award ceremony.