The Dissipation of Love

Jonathan Shaw is busy taking his mentor's daughter, who's burning up a fever, to the hospital on the day I fall. I'm pregnant.

I need to undergo surgery to stabilize the pregnancy, but it's risky. However, Jonathan's tone is icy on the other end of the line. "I know you've always been biased against my mentor, Tessa. Still, do you think you can use something like this as an excuse to get me there?"

I lose hope in him as a lone tear rolls down my face. "Don't bother saving the child. Help me abort it."

My love for Jonathan leaves with our child.

I had always been weak, and the abortion left me feeling as if I had just had a brush with death. I was in the hospital for three days after that, yet my husband, Jonathan Shaw, didn't call me even once.

I went home before I had fully recovered, only to run into Jonathan just as he was leaving through the front door. He was clutching his phone and frowned when he saw me. "Where have you been? Why didn't you answer any of my calls?"

I glanced at my phone. It had been switched off the entire time. I had no intention of telling him about the abortion. "Why did you call me?"

"Ms. Sanders' daughter has been hospitalized and put on an IV drip for the last few days. She refuses to eat. Make her some chicken soup, and I'll take it over," Jonathan said.

"What?" I thought I might have misheard him until he repeated himself. As it turned out, he couldn't care less that his pregnant wife hadn't been home the last few days; all he cared about was that he needed someone to make soup for his mentor's kid.

My heart tightened painfully, and for a moment, I thought it might have stopped beating. I studied Jonathan's displeased expression and turned to head into the kitchen.

Ever since Jonathan's mentor, Charlotte Sanders, had been widowed, his concern for her well-being had exceeded the usual bounds of a mentor-mentee relationship. Not only did he prioritize her needs over his own, but he also expected me and our baby to compromise for her sake.

This wasn't the first time I'd had to put up with such unfair treatment, but it certainly was the first time I'd been so calm about it.

The summer heat was reaching a boiling point. Sweat breaking out on my forehead, I slaved away in the kitchen despite having just had an abortion.

I handed the soup flask to Jonathan and said tiredly, "Here. I need to lie down."

However, Jonathan grabbed me by the wrist and said grimly, "You're coming with me. Ms. Sanders did me a huge favor by mentoring me. As my wife, it's only right that you visit her daughter with me now that she's sick and hospitalized."

He had never considered my feelings.

I got into the car, only to find a hairpin on the passenger seat. Jonathan followed my gaze, quickly swiping the hairpin and shoving it into his pocket.

He explained anxiously, "Ms. Sanders must have dropped it when I gave her and Amanda a lift to the hospital. I'll return it later."

Charlotte's daughter, Amanda Grossman, had been sick, yet it seemed the woman had left the child in the backseat while she'd ridden shotgun. It was bad parenting no matter how one looked at it.

However, I simply nodded and didn't make a fuss about this. I noted the baffled look in Jonathan's eyes and said slowly, "We should get going. I don't want the soup to get cold."

In the past, I would have thrown a fit over the hairpin and demanded an explanation from him. But that would only make me look like a shrew and Charlotte a wise, understanding person.

Jonathan had wounded my heart and left it bleeding, but not once did he ever show that he loved me.

In the end, we drifted apart. It wasn't until now that I realized he wasn't worth the heartache.

We had only just stepped into the hospital room when a little girl bounded up to us and threw herself into Jonathan's arms. "Daddy Jonny, you finally came back!"

Everyone in the room froze at the way Amanda addressed Jonathan.

My breath hitched as I glanced at Jonathan. He looked like he was about to say something but stopped himself. He met my gaze stonily but didn't correct Amanda's way of addressing him.