When My Husband Chose His Mistress Over Our Dying Son

My husband's first love's child broke an antique intended as a gift, yet blamed my son for the mishap. Enraged, my husband punished Cassian by making him kneel for twenty-four hours in our chapel.

I pleaded with him, tears streaming down my face. "Cassian didn’t do it! He’s honest and takes responsibility for his mistakes!" I sobbed. "He’s just recovering from a fever, and it’s only 17 degrees outside—he’s only in pajamas! He can’t endure a whole day without food or drink!”

But my husband coldly brushed my hand aside. "Cassian is always energetic and gets into mischief—who else could it be? Are you really suggesting Brody set him up?" he shot back. "I know you're upset about Ruth staying here, but I didn't expect you to accuse a child maliciously!"

That night, Cassian’s fever worsened, leading to heart complications and severe arrhythmia. From 5 a.m. to noon, I sat outside the emergency room, shivering on a cold metal chair. Meanwhile, my phone buzzed with a notification—a cheery family photo sent by the woman who now occupies my place. When my sister arrived at the hospital, I clung to her, my face drenched in tears.

“I can’t be with him anymore…”

The red light above the emergency room seemed to stab into my soul, every tick of the clock felt like a dagger in my heart. Cassian, my Cassian—I failed to protect you.

"Kairi!" My sister, Kairi Young, rushed inside, holding my trembling body tightly. Her warm hands met my icy skin, her voice quivering with emotion. "Don’t be afraid; Cassian will be okay."

I mechanically lifted my head and showed her my phone. On the screen, Ahmir Ford held Brody on a carousel, while Ruth grinned sweetly beside them. The caption boldly stated, "Long-awaited family time; Brody is ecstatic." It was posted half an hour ago, when Cassian was in critical condition.

My sister’s breath halted and her eyes burned with fury. "Despicable! What a jerk!" she growled, clenching the phone with white knuckles. "Gabriela, once Cassian gets better, you need to end this marriage! That loser doesn't deserve to see you or the child again!"

I shakily dialed Ahmir’s number, putting it on speaker. Laughter and Brody’s giggles pierced through like daggers.

"Hello, Gabriela? What now? Didn't I say I’m with Brody?" Ahmir's voice was sharp and impatient, as if I were a nuisance.

“Ahmir…” My voice cracked, hoarse. “Cassian is in the emergency room…”

“Emergency room?” He scoffed, dripping with disdain over the phone. "Quit exaggerating. It's just a little fever! He's only kneeling for a day; how bad could it be? Are you that kind of mother, making a fuss over nothing? Brody was scared by your antics, and Ruth feels horrible for her son—you didn't comfort us and instead disrupt me with these cheap tactics? You’re seriously becoming irrational!"

The call abruptly ended, leaving the cold beeps echoing down the empty corridor. My sister’s face turned ashen, her hand trembling against mine as she tried to support me. I couldn’t hold on any longer; my knees hit the cold tiles of the hospital floor.

“Sis… I can’t do this anymore… I really can’t…”

Just then, the light over the emergency room flickered off. My heart stopped, and my eyes locked onto the door. A weary-looking doctor emerged. I crawled over, clutching at his pants with desperate fingers.

“Doctor! My son! How is my son?”

The doctor sighed, eyes bloodshot. “The fever triggered heart issues, severe arrhythmia…” he explained. “But after resuscitation, he’s temporarily out of immediate danger. He still needs close observation; it's a delicate situation.”

I sank to the ground, feeling as if my broken heart had been momentarily mended. Cassian was alive; my child was still breathing. In that instant, all the bottled-up worry and rage flowed into a torrent of tears. I clutched my sister’s hand, choked with sobs.

“Sis, Cassian survived…”