When My Husband Chose His Mistress Midair

Anya was taken to the hospital room, while Kevin pinned me to the ground, demanding I apologize to her. His eyes were blazing with anger as he glared at me.

"Maya, apologize to Anya right now! Or I swear you won't get away with it."

Anya lay on the bed, looking frail and worn out. "I'm... I'm okay, Kevin. Don't be upset because of me," she mumbled. "It's not the end of the world if I'm gone."

Kevin rushed to her side, his face filled with concern. "No, Anya, you are the most amazing woman ever," he assured her. "You have to live your life to the fullest. I still want to take you to Paris, to the Swiss Alps, and countless other places."

I recalled when I used to dream of visiting those places with Kevin. Back then, he promised me, "I'll definitely take you there, Maya."

But now, those promises seemed forgotten. I should have seen long ago that he was no longer mine.

The last time, he was with Anya in our car, doing things I couldn't bear to dwell on. Before that, he took her on a hot air balloon ride and even gifted her a motorcycle with their names engraved on it.

With each of those moments, my heart gradually broke.

"Maya, this is all your fault. If it weren't for you, Anya wouldn't have gotten hurt," Kevin accused, storming over and grabbing my hair. He wanted to hit me but held back because of the child I carried.

"Maya, if this happens again, I swear I'll ruin your family financially."

But he didn't realize that I no longer cared about any of it. All I wanted was a divorce.