Walking Away for Good

My husband insisted that I wear high heels at the company’s annual meeting despite being pregnant. He compared me to his female secretary with a look of disdain.

"Can’t you learn from Lucille? She’s eight months pregnant and still comes to work in full makeup, handling her tasks efficiently. If you don’t wear them, don’t go. I’ll be embarrassed!"

He even tried to give the high heels to his secretary and take her as his date. Left with no choice, I forced myself to wear them.

However, on the balcony, the secretary tripped me, spilling red wine all over me.

Limping, I found my husband, only for him to sneer, "Tripping on flat ground? How clumsy!"

Furious and pale with anger, I turned to leave.

Someone urged him to chase after me, but he only got angrier. "How bad could it be? She’s so timid—she can’t survive without me! Just wait. When the event’s over, she’ll definitely be waiting in the car to drive me home."

Alas, he was wrong. I turned and went straight to the hospital for an abortion.

The cold wind blew, and the red wine Lucille spilled on my gown seeped into my skin, chilling me to the bone.

Judgmental gazes followed me as I left the event hall, but not a single person stepped forward to help.

Then, a sharp pain twisted through my abdomen, turning my face pale. I couldn’t help but crouch down as warm liquid trickled down my thighs. Reaching out, I pleaded, "Can someone… help me?"

Unfortunately, everyone backed away.

"Don’t get involved. Leo just defended her once, and it pissed Shawn off."

"If you ask me, Imelda really isn’t good enough for Shawn. She’s as fat as a pig—no wonder he doesn’t want her."

"And she’s got a nasty attitude. She spilled wine all over Lucille earlier and didn’t even apologize!"

Not far away, Lucille Russell gasped in surprise, "Shawn, your wife doesn’t look well…"

"This is all my fault," she sniffled pitifully. "I was so focused on discussing work with you that I forgot to keep my distance, and that upset her…"

Full of sympathy, Shawn Sutherland took off his jacket and draped it over Lucille’s shoulders. "Go change before you catch a cold."

Without sparing me a glance, he turned and walked away, scoffing, "She’s just putting on a show. You’re too kind to believe her.

"Don’t worry, where else could she go? You’ve had a few drinks, so once the dinner ends, I’ll have her drive you home. She might not be fit to be my wife, but at the very least, she can still be a maid or a chauffeur."

Clutching the damp fabric of my dress, I trembled in pain. So, in Shawn’s eyes, I was never worthy of being his wife. Was it because I was fat and ugly now?

After getting pregnant, I gained 30 pounds to ensure the baby had enough nutrition. Fearing toxins in makeup, I had even stopped using skincare products, relying only on basic moisturizers.

However, Shawn had forgotten that before our marriage, I was once the woman everyone envied. We met, became close, and fell in love in college. A campus beauty and a campus heartthrob—a perfect match in everyone’s eyes.

He came from a humble background and had a strong sense of pride. So, I left behind my parents’ protection to build a life with him.

We once shared a single bun or a bowl of instant noodles. At our lowest, he even gave me the last sausage when we had nothing left to eat.

During the early years of his business, I endured countless sleepless nights securing deals and investors. More than once, I drank so much at business meetings that I ended up in the hospital with stomach ulcers.

Later, when his company finally stabilized, I stepped away from the front lines to focus on pregnancy because I had always dreamed of having his child.

For five long years, I underwent multiple rounds of IVF to conceive this baby, cherishing it with all my heart, but to Shawn, it meant nothing.

In his heart, I had long since become a worn-out wife—no longer his one true love.

Shaking uncontrollably, I forced myself to stand and hailed a taxi to the hospital.

Upon seeing my condition, the doctor was horrified. "The bleeding is so severe! Why did you wait so long to come? Where’s your husband? We need his signature to save the baby—"

"I don’t want to save it." Collapsed on the freezing operating table, I whispered, "I’m here for an abortion."