My Water Broke, But He Chose Her First

It took me three days just to choose the color. Half a month to knit that intricate pattern. My fingers were raw, pricked a dozen times, but I hadn't minded.

It had all seemed worth it—imagining him holding it, shouting his excitement, vowing no one else would ever touch it.

But now, Rhys had tossed those vows aside. He was using my labor of love to impress Emily Fox.

How dare he.

Emily recoiled slightly, offering a polite, apologetic smile.

"I'm so sorry, Rhys. My skin is terribly sensitive. If it isn't pure wool from a designer brand, I break out in a rash. Especially with... synthetic blends like that."

Rhys froze, hand still outstretched. He didn't find her rejection rude. Instead, he apologized profusely.

"No, no, I wasn't thinking. A girl like you deserves designer brands, not... cheap, inferior goods."

My heart clenched. Inferior goods.

"I won't let this trash offend your eyes," he continued eagerly. "When your birthday comes, I'll get you something worthy."

With a smile, he tossed the gray scarf onto the ground without a second thought, like garbage.

As our car drove past, the tires rolled over it. The gray wool caught, twisted, ground into the dirty slush.

Just like my love—crushed completely clean.

Rhys sensed a gaze burning into him. He turned.

Through the tinted window, our eyes locked. I sat clutching my pregnant belly, my stare colder than the winter air.

Rhys stiffened. Guilt and shock flashed across his face.

But as my car drove further away, he blinked and shook his head.

"Must be an illusion," he muttered. "Why would my wife be in a luxury car like that?"

Still, unease lingered. A prick of conscience about leaving me home alone. He pulled out his phone, turned it back on, and dialed my number.

My phone lit up. The contact name—Hubby—felt like a cruel joke.

I stared at it, finding the irony unbearable. I didn't answer. One tap. Blocked. Then I blocked him on every platform we shared.

Now he knows how to be anxious? What was he doing five minutes ago?

As the car moved through the city, my mind spiraled back. When did Rhys start looking at Emily like that?

Was it the day she moved in? She'd knocked on our door to borrow tools. Rhys had stared at her face, completely entranced, only snapping out of it when I nudged him. He'd smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head.

Was it the mornings he took out the trash? I realized now he'd started taking Emily's too.

Or when he cooked dinner? He would "coincidentally" run into Emily coming home and insist on bringing her a portion.

Or perhaps it was the way he constantly whispered in my ear that Emily had a hard life, praising her for being so strong and independent...

Looking back, I'd been so stupid.

His little betrayals had happened right under my nose. I'd mistaken his lust for Emily as the same neighborly kindness he showed everyone.

But why?

We were each other's first love. Dated for five years, married for three. For eight years, Rhys had always put me first. He handed over his entire salary. He cooked. He cleaned.

He always said he felt guilty he couldn't afford a proper ring or a wedding house. He claimed he wanted to spend his life making it up to me, treating me like a queen.

The year before last, when my grandpa fell ill, Rhys took a month of leave to care for him day and night, staying by his side until he passed peacefully.

Even my parents and three protective older brothers, who'd fiercely opposed our marriage, had eventually softened. They finally admitted I'd married a good man.

How did the man who loved me that much change after Emily moved in for just two months?

I couldn't figure it out. And I didn't want to waste another second trying.

I wiped the tears from my face and hardened my heart. I opened the family group chat and tagged Miles, the senior partner at a top law firm.

[Scarlett: Miles, I can't accept Rhys's betrayal. I want a divorce. Help me.]

Miles replied instantly.

[Miles: Done. The papers are already drafted.]

A second later, he sent a photo of an airport departure gate.

[Miles: I booked the next flight. Wait for me. I'm coming.]

As soon as his message landed, notifications from my eldest brother and Jack flooded the screen.