Nine Months Pregnant and my Husband Killed my Twins

The ropes were finally undone. My arms fell limply to my sides, my wrists raw and burning from hours of struggling.

The butler—whether out of guilt or simple pity—had finally convinced them to let me go. But I was so weak, so exhausted, that I collapsed onto the cold marble floor the second they untied me.

I couldn’t even cry properly anymore. Silent sobs racked my body as I curled into myself, my arms instinctively wrapping around my swollen belly. My baby was still there, still moving. That was all that mattered.

I barely had the strength to think, but my mind still betrayed me, dragging me back to the past—to the time when I still believed Scott loved me.

I had been so naïve.

We first met in college. Back then, Scott belonged to someone else. Jasmin.

She had everything I didn’t—grace, confidence, the kind of beauty that left people breathless. And she had him. I knew I didn’t stand a chance, so I admired him from afar, content with just watching him from the sidelines.

Then, one day, I overheard that Scott and his friends were going paragliding. It was reckless, dangerous—exactly the kind of thing someone like him would do. I told myself I was only going to watch, to see him up close just once. But then, the accident happened.

Scott’s parachute failed.

I still remember the way my heart stopped as I watched him fall, plummeting toward the jagged cliffs below. No one moved. His friends panicked, screaming, frozen in place.

But before I knew it, my feet were already moving, carrying me forward.

Even though I was terrified of heights, I climbed down after him. My hands bled from gripping the rough rocks, my body trembling as I forced myself lower and lower until I finally reached him. He was barely conscious, his breathing shallow, his body limp from the impact.

“Stay awake,” I had whispered, even as my own voice shook. “You have to stay awake.”

With every ounce of strength I had, I pulled him up. It took everything in me—I felt my muscles tear, my nails snap, my body scream in protest—but I did it. I saved him.

And then, the second we reached safety, my legs gave out. I collapsed beside him, the fear, the exhaustion, the pain—it was too much. I blacked out.

By the time I woke up, everything had already changed.

I was lying in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around my hands and knees, my entire body sore. I had smiled, relieved that Scott was alive, and I was about to introduce myself as the one who saved him.

But then, I heard them.

Scott and Jasmin.

“I knew you’d come for me,” Scott said softly.

And then I saw it—Jasmin, lying on the hospital bed beside him, her hand delicately placed in his. And in that moment, I realized the truth.

She had taken credit for everything.

Scott believed it was her who had climbed down that cliff, who had pulled him back from the edge of death. And she didn’t correct him.

I should have spoken then. I should have told him. But I didn’t. I was nothing. Just some random girl. Who would believe me over her?

So I swallowed the truth. I let it die inside me.

Years passed. Jasmin left him. And somehow, fate led me back to Scott. This time, without her shadow looming over us, we grew close. We laughed. We shared late-night talks. I fell in love with him all over again, and for a moment, I thought he loved me too.

But it had never been me.

It had always been Jasmin.

I should have known.

A choked sob tore from my throat as I curled up tighter on the cold floor, my nails digging into my palms. I had been so stupid. So blind.

And now, here I was. Punished for something I didn’t do.

I must have fallen asleep crying because the next thing I knew, I woke up to something landing beside me with a dull thud. A plate. Food scattered across the marble floor, some of it rolling away under the table.

Scott stood over me, his expression hard, unreadable.

“Didn’t I tell you to eat?” His voice was laced with irritation. “You can’t starve yourself. You still need to pay for your sins.”

My lips parted, but before I could speak, the butler stepped in hesitantly. “Sir… she’s been through enough. Maybe we should call a doctor to check on the baby—”

“I don’t care,” Scott cut him off coldly. His gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. “And don’t even think about helping her, unless you want to lose your job.”

The butler flinched, lowering his head in silent defeat.

Scott turned back to me, his eyes filled with nothing but disdain. “Now eat that food off the ground. Or starve to death.”

I clenched my hands into fists. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him I wasn’t some dog he could throw scraps to. But I had no strength left to fight.

So instead, I forced myself to speak, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Let’s just divorce.”