My Water Broke, But He Chose Her First

My water broke, and pain seized my entire body. Gasping, I dialed my husband, Rhys Abbott. He answered, but his voice lacked any urgency.

He was too busy helping our beautiful neighbor, Emily Fox, move her car.

"Babe, it's snowing heavily out here," Rhys said, his tone casual. "Parking is a nightmare. Just hang tight a little longer. As soon as I get this parked, I'll race back to you. I promise."

I froze, clutching my stomach. Wait? I didn't expect his first reaction to be a command to hold on.

A wave of fury momentarily eclipsed the pain.

"Rhys Abbott, do you have any idea what the priority is right now?" I snapped, my voice trembling. "My water broke! I'm going into labor. Why are you wasting time parking a car? Get back here and take me to the hospital!"

"Okay, okay," he muttered, sounding annoyed.

But he didn't come back.

Minutes dragged by, each one agonizingly slow. A knot of unease tightened in my chest. Forcing myself through a contraction that nearly doubled me over, I crawled to the window and looked down into the courtyard.

My blood ran cold.

The car was already parked. Rhys wasn't rushing toward the building. He was standing by the vehicle with Emily, chatting idly. Their smiles were ambiguous, intimate.

I dialed him again. He picked up, but before he spoke, Emily's voice filtered through the speaker—sickly sweet, dripping with feigned innocence.

"Rhys, you're the best. Thanks for helping me park—and for offering to cook my birthday dinner personally. But... didn't your wife say her water broke? Is it really okay for you to be here?"

Rhys scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain.

"Ignore her. She's been crying wolf for three days, claiming she's in labor. I'm exhausted dealing with her drama."

He paused, and I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "Besides, she's an adult. If she's really giving birth, she can call an ambulance. Why does she need me to hold her hand? If she can't handle a little thing like childbirth, she's not fit to be a mother."

His voice softened for Emily. "But you—you're just a young girl, new to the city and all alone on your twenty-second birthday. I help you park, I cook you a meal, and she throws a tantrum? It's just petty jealousy. Completely unreasonable."

Unreasonable.

A bitter, dry laugh escaped my lips. With shaking fingers, I compiled the audio recording and the video I'd taken from the window. Without hesitation, I sent the files to a group chat containing my three brothers: my eldest brother, a business tycoon; my second brother, a partner at a top-tier law firm; and my third brother, who owned a renowned martial arts gym.

That night, the Abbott family would implode.

And Rhys Abbott—the man currently calling me unreasonable—would be on his knees, slapping his own face until it bruised, begging me not to divorce him.

——

The moment the message was sent, my eldest brother's reply popped up instantly.

"Scarlett, don't panic. Forget that bastard Rhys for now—you and the child come first!"

"My friend lives directly below you; he's a doctor. I've already alerted him. He's coming up to take you to the hospital."

Seconds later, a sharp knock echoed on the door.

Through the peephole, I saw a tall man in a heavy down jacket. I opened the door, leaning heavily against the frame. He wasted no time.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice steady and professional.

He quickly assessed my condition, seeing that I was lucid despite the pain. He grabbed my hospital bag with one hand and supported me firmly with the other, guiding me toward the elevator.

As we moved toward the underground garage, he remotely started his car to warm it up. Every few steps, he checked on me, instructing me to tell him immediately if the pain worsened.

He treated me with the care and attentiveness of a devoted husband.

But until five minutes ago, he was a complete stranger.

Meanwhile, my actual husband was busy playing hero for another woman, ignoring the wife who had carried his child for ten months and was currently in labor.

The injustice hit me like a physical blow. I couldn't hold back any longer. A loud, racking sob tore from my chest.

The man beside me immediately handed me a tissue.

"Let it out," he said softly. "Holding it in will only hurt you."

I thanked him, wiping my eyes, but my heart turned to ice.

As his car drove out of the underground garage, fate twisted the knife one last time. We rolled right past them.

Rhys and Emily were walking side by side, carrying grocery bags and a cake box. Talking and laughing. Rhys was beaming—a grin so wide you'd think he'd won the lottery.

Fueled by fresh rage, I deliberately dialed his number one last time.

Through the window, I watched him. He felt the vibration, glanced at the screen, frowned, and immediately silenced the call before shoving the phone deep into his pocket.

Beside him, Emily shivered in the cold wind, shrinking into her coat.

Without missing a beat, Rhys unwound his scarf and gently draped it around her neck, adjusting it with sickening care.

My vision blurred with fresh tears.

That scarf.

Grey wool. Last month, he had begged me to knit it for him. He'd told me his colleagues were showing off their gifts, and he wanted to wear a symbol of his wife's love.

Now, that symbol was keeping another woman warm while I went to deliver his child alone.