Eight days before I was due to give birth, my husband came home drunk and asked me to choose his ex over our baby.

Part 1:
When I was about to give birth, my husband was having an affair with his ex. In a drunken haze, he looked at me with cold eyes and said, “Will you get rid of the baby, please? She’s come back.” I was stunned into silence, then lifted my head and smiled. But what I did next left him in shock. If you were in my place, what would you have done? Comment below. I’m reading every story.
My husband staggered into the apartment, the stench of alcohol rising off his wrinkled shirt. He lurched across the living room, his shoes thutting hard against the wooden floor. I wasn’t asleep, the dull pains of late pregnancy keeping me restless, my back aching. Hearing the noise, I called softly, my voice tired. Honey, pour me a glass of water. He appeared at the bedroom door, his eyes bloodshot, his gaze lost like someone whose soul had wandered off.
The sharp burn of liquor filled my nose, drowning out even the faint scent of shampoo on the pillow. I froze, a sense of unease swelling in my chest like waves hitting a wall. My hand went instinctively to my belly where the baby shifted as if feeling its mother’s tension. I flipped the blanket back and dragged my swollen feet off the bed. What’s wrong, honey? I asked, trying to sound calm. Robert stood still, his shoulders trembling as if he were wrestling with something monstrous.
His lips pressed tight, his eyes darting away from me, staring into the void behind my back. I didn’t push him, though my heart was pounding. The baby kicked hard inside me, a sharp pain slicing through my body. I clenched my teeth, staying still, my eyes locked on the man in front of me.

Part 2:
He dropped his head. The room went silent, except for the ticking clock in his heavy breathing. After a moment, Robert’s voice came out, as though each word had to be dragged out of his throat. Could you get rid of the baby? I thought I’d misheard. My head spun as if the floor had dropped from under me. What did you say? My voice shook. 8 days left before you give birth, but I want you to end it. He looked up, his eyes cloudy, but there was something firm, cruel in his stare.
Then he lowered his head again as if ashamed, but kept speaking, his voice steadier now. Chloe came back. Her name, his first love, stabbed into me like a knife. She agreed to be with me, but she won’t accept me having a child. I stood frozen, my whole body trembling, blood turning to ice. I wanted to scream, to smash everything, but my throat was locked. Only my heart crushed inside my chest. Robert looked at me, not with apology, but expectation like he truly hoped I would nod yes.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, holding myself back from collapsing. The baby kicked again, harder, as if to remind me I wasn’t living only for myself. A thin, bitter smile curled on my lips, cold and sharp. “All right,” I said, my voice flat, as if agreeing to a simple request.
Robert’s face went slack, his eyes lighting up with a mix of surprise and relief. “Really? Really?” he repeated as if he couldn’t believe it, a smile spreading across his flushed, drunken face. I didn’t answer, just turned away, my heavy belly dragging me as I slowly stepped out of the bedroom. Each step an effort to hold back the rage boiling inside me.
“Come with me,” I said, my voice calmed to the point of being terrifying. “Robert,” his mind clouded by alcohol, didn’t sense anything wrong. He followed eagerly, muttering Khloe’s name under his breath, his tone sweet like she was standing right there. I held my breath, my fingers clenching so hard my knuckles went white, leading him down the dim hallway, our shadows stretching on the wall under the weak light.
I stopped at the window, looking out at the city glittering below. Cold air rushed in as I flung it open, the icy wind slapping my face. I turned, grabbed Robert’s collar, pushed his head down, forcing him to look into the black void outside.
“Push me out,” I said, my voice like a blade. “This is the 18th floor.” One shove, and both me and the baby will be gone.
He looked up, eyes wide, but still vacant, as if he hadn’t fully grasped what I was saying. I gripped his shoulders, keeping him from turning away. My voice dropping low, almost a whisper. From now on, you’ll be free to live with your mistress.
Act two. The night was so quiet, it felt unnerving. Only the sound of wind whistling through the window cracks and our heavy breathing filling the space. My voice carried a darkness, a chill, each word weighed down like a curse.
Robert leaned his head out, his messy hair whipped across his face by the wind, making his whole body tremble. The alcohol-numbed brain was flickering with a trace of clarity at last, as if reality were seeping slowly into each cell. Was he thinking about the consequences, about the price of those reckless words, or just the primal fear of the black void below? Whatever it was, he was so scared he kept backing away, tripping over the rug, gripping the window frame as if afraid of falling.
He swallowed hard, his eyes now wide with panic as he stared at me. “Denise, come back here,” he stammered, his voice trembling, his hand reaching out as if begging. “Then he started blaming himself, shaking his head violently, his face twisted with too late regret. I was drunk. Everything I said just now was nonsense. Don’t take it to heart. Come back inside.
His bloodshot eyes fixed on me with a desperate glimmer, like a drowning man finding a float. But I only curled my lips into a smile, one without warmth, all bitterness and contempt.
Didn’t you tell me to get rid of the baby? I asked back, my voice soft but sharp as a blade. Each word stabbing into him. I’m cooperating with you this much, so why won’t you go through with it now?
I pretended to lean further out the window, my hand on the frame, my heavy body tilting into the air, the cold wind slapping my face, blowing my hair into a frenzy. Robert’s face turned ghostly pale.
Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, his kneecaps thuing hard against the floor, clutching my legs with trembling hands, his nails digging into my skin through the thin fabric.
It’s my fault, Denise. I’m begging you. Don’t do this.
He kept repeating, his voice breaking, berating himself like a madman. I was wrong. I was stupid. Don’t do it.
In an instant, the handsome face of before was full of remorse. I held down a nameless fury boiling inside me like fire, but I didn’t let him see. Only the disgust rising up, making me want to kick him away immediately.
Get out, I screamed, expressionless, my voice echoing through the dark room. Get out of my sight now.
Robert tried to say something, his mouth working, his worried eyes darting across my face, searching for some scrap of mercy. I let out a cold laugh, the dry sound cutting him off instantly.
Don’t worry, whatever happens to you, I’ll still live my life.
Those words hit him like a slap, his face shifting from horror to despair. Then finally to resignation. In the end, he only lowered his voice and left one line behind, almost a whisper.
Get some rest.
Then he bolted, staggering out of the room, the door slamming shut with a sound like a hammer strike. Only then did my strength drain away, my knees buckling as I slid to the floor, my back against the glass, my hands wrapped around my belly.
I stroked it gently, feeling the taut skin under my palm, a bitter laugh escaping me, the sound echoing in the empty space, full of sorrow and loneliness. The baby inside me shifted faintly, uneasy, as if asking if I was all right.
I lowered my eyes, tears running down my face, whispering to comfort the child. No one will be allowed to hurt you.
The next morning, I woke late. It was already 10:00 a.m. Sunlight slipping through the curtains onto the cold floor. Yet, Robert was still home, noises coming from the kitchen.
When he saw me come out, he turned around, trying to look cheerful, setting breakfast on the table as if nothing had happened the night before. But his face was tense, his smile strained, his eyes avoiding mine, his hands trembling as he set the plate down.
I suddenly felt nauseous, my stomach twisting. I couldn’t hold it back, gripping the edge of the table as I dry heaved, my eyes stinging with tears. He rushed over, patting my back gently, but with false concern.
Feeling sick again?
I pushed his hand away in disgust, poured myself a glass of water from the pitcher, gulping it down to smother the nausea.
“When will you meet your divorce lawyer?” I said flatly, my voice even as if talking about the weather without looking at him.
Robert’s face darkened immediately, his smile dying. He handed me a bowl of soup, mumbling like a child. Words spoken while drunk can’t be taken as true. You said you’d live well with me. Denise, just pretend last night was me being crazy for a moment. All right. Your health isn’t good now. Don’t be angry anymore.
He looked at me with pleading eyes, still holding out the soup, but my face stayed cold. I didn’t take it, pushing it aside.
Now you know I’m not supposed to be angry. Last night you wanted me to abort when there were only 8 days left before my due date. the child we’d waited 9 months for now just a burden in your eyes.
I stayed silent, letting that silence press down on him like an accusation.
Denise.
Seeing me quiet, Robert put on a pitiful act, his voice small. Do you not love me anymore?
I lifted my head, staring at him, unsure what game he was playing now. He sighed, his shoulders sagging, his voice full of self-reroach, but really just dodging otherwise.
Why aren’t you jealous? Why aren’t you angry? Why do you want a divorce?
I curled my lips into a smile, cold as ice, though inside me a storm was raging. He dared to speak of love after asking me to give up my child for the sake of his first love.
I had met Robert at a friend’s party four years ago. Dim lights, soft jazz playing. He walked over with a radiant smile, a fitted suit, a warm voice, telling stories that made everyone laugh.
He was the kind of partner I had dreamed of. Confident, funny, attentive. Everything seemed perfect, as if fate had placed him right before me.
But a few months later, I learned about Chloe, the first love he had been obsessed with since he was young. He spoke of her with a far away look, as if she were his whole world.
He had abandoned half of his SAT exam just to attend the same school as Chloe, but she never cared. She changed boyfriends like clothes, never once choosing Robert. He wasn’t angry, only loyal like a dog, coming when she called, leaving when she dismissed him.
When I realized I didn’t even bother asking why he let go of Kloe to love me, I just wanted to break up. Even though I still liked him, I couldn’t accept that my boyfriend had once debased himself so completely for another woman.
But Robert refused to let me go. He begged, made endless promises, and explained his reason for leaving Kloe. Her new boyfriend didn’t like him. So Khloe cut ties coldly, left the country without a word.
Denise, that moment, my heart went numb, he said, then confessed frantically to me. I thought I’d never find true love again, but then I met you.
He held my hand, his voice sincere, but I rejected him, suspicion still heavy in my heart. To avoid him, I accepted a work assignment in a remote place, somewhere even Google Maps could barely find.
But the harsh climate left me sick more days than not. Nothing severe, but draining.
When a person is weak, they soften easily. When Robert drove thousands of miles to find me, I was moved. Not because I was fragile, but because I had always longed for the kind of care I never had growing up.
Since childhood, I had been deprived of parental affection. Especially when I was sick, my parents only scolded me for being useless, for not being able to work. When I asked for medicine, they would say, “Endure it. It’ll pass.”
Robert was the first in over 20 years to treat me with real kindness. And so I decided to take a gamble, but it seems I bet wrong once again.
Denise, what are you thinking?
Robert smiled faintly, pushing the glass of water and the prenatal vitamin bottle toward me. Come on, take these.
He sat across from me, his eyes probing as if afraid I might explode. Don’t be angry over the things I said while drunk. It’s true Khloe is back, but I swear I don’t have any feelings for her anymore.
He gave a fawning smile, his lips curving up, but his eyes betraying his unease, seeing me pick up the bottle and swallow each pill with cold water. His smile deepened like he’d just passed some kind of test.
“I have such a wonderful wife, and we’re about to welcome a little angel,” he said, his voice smooth like an actor rehearsing lines in front of a mirror. “A life like this no one would want to trade.”
I lowered my eyelids, not arguing, but inside I knew better. Drunk words are the truest. What he said last night wasn’t some slip, but the raw truth he’d been hiding.
I pressed my lips together, swallowing the last vitamin, knowing that stopping now was better than trying to go on.
Before heading to work, Robert lay his head on my belly, whispering to the baby for a long time, as if he couldn’t bear to leave. His eyes lingered on my belly.
Gentle “Baby, daddy’s going to work,” he said, his hand stroking me softly. “Be good in mommy’s tummy. Don’t make her tired.”
I laughed, not out of joy, but at his shamelessness.
“Go on, you’ve already skipped work all morning. If you’re late this afternoon, you’d better watch out for getting fired. What will you use to support the two of us then?”
Hearing that, Robert’s eyes lit up, thinking I’d forgiven him, his smile spreading wide. He cupped my face, kissed my forehead with a show of tenderness.
Don’t worry, no matter what, I’ll make sure you and the baby live the best life.
I smiled and waved him off at the door. But as soon as his figure vanished behind it, my face went cold. The smile wiped away as if it had never been there.
I opened my phone, accepting a friend request from Chloe. Less than a minute later, she sent a video.
Under flickering nightlights, Khloe wore a tight short dress, her eyes flashing seduction, her smile a weapon. At her feet, Robert knelt, clutching her legs, kissing her thighs, his eyes wild with devotion like she was the only goddess on earth.
My stomach clenched. I couldn’t hold it back. Vomiting up the vitamins I just swallowed into the trash. The bitterness burning my throat.
I rushed into the bathroom, grabbed a wet towel, scrubbing at my forehead where his lips had touched as if to erase the trace of a betrayer. My skin turned red, but it still wasn’t enough to scrub away the disgust.
When I came back to the table, seeing the food he’d prepared, I wanted to vomit again. But I held it back, my hands trembling as I picked up my phone, snapping each dish, posting it on social media with the caption, “When you choose the right husband, life is like a dream.”
Robert instantly hit the heart button, commenting, “Love my wife.”
I stared at the words, a thin smile on my lips, but inside I had only one thought. Soon he would know this dream was his own nightmare.
When Robert came home, it was already late at night. Seeing I had set the dinner table, a flicker of guilt crossed his face, gone as quickly as it came. I pretended not to notice.
Robert, why so gloomy? Working overtime until this hour must be exhausting, huh?
I stood up, gently rubbing my pregnant belly, smiling. Have something to eat. I’ll go get your bath ready so you can relax.
Robert suddenly stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his hot breath on the back of my neck. My body stiffened, disgust rising like a wave. But I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm, slipping skillfully out of his arms and turning to face him.
“Why are you acting strange today?” I asked evenly, my eyes searching his.
He didn’t answer, only smiled. a half smile as if hiding something. Then, like showing off a trophy, he pulled a pastry box from his bag, the cardboard glinting with the Magnolia Bakery logo. The place halfway across the city from his office.
He set it on the table, ran a hand through his hair, his voice proud. I know you love sweets, so I crossed half the city to get these for you. Come look, I chose them carefully. Do you like them?
I smiled back, opened the box, the deep red ribbon slipping from my fingers to reveal what was inside. A large lavish box, but empty, holding only two small cakes tossed carelessly. “Mhapen,” as if someone had thrown them in a rush.
I burst out laughing.
“Robert, if you want a divorce, just say it,” I said, my voice calm but sharp, my eyes fixed on him. “I’m not the kind of woman who clings and won’t let go.
His face flushed, his eyes darting, but he didn’t even bother to ask. He launched straight into the lie he’d prepared.
“Denise, why are you angry again? I worked myself to death today, and right after work, I remembered you said you craved magnolia cakes, so I didn’t mind the distance to bring them back for you.”
He slammed the fork down on the table, the plate clattering, his expression irritated. In the end, you’re not happy, and now you want a divorce. Why?
He spoke like he was innocent, his voice full of grievance, as if I were the betrayer. If I hadn’t seen Khloe’s story on social media, I might have believed him.
This afternoon, he skipped work, walking handinhand with Kloe all over the city, not buying cakes for me.
I didn’t rush to refute him, just watched him.
“You sure you chose these cakes for me yourself?” I asked, pushing the box toward him.
He nodded firmly, eyes full of resentment, as if I were insulting his kindness. I curled my lips, sliding the box closer to him.
Look for yourself. There are only two cakes, both so misshapen. And there’s mango, the one thing I’m allergic to.
I raised my voice, each word like a hammer blow.
Robert, it’s not that you want a divorce. You want me dead, don’t you?
He froze, his eyes darting wildly, glancing at the box, then back at me. He kept staring back and forth, his brows knitted tight as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.
After a long moment, as though something clicked, his expression darkened, but he still forced out a crooked smile.
“Must be a mixup by the shop staff.”
He irritably tossed the box of cakes into the trash, then hurried into his coat, standing up.
“Tell me what you want to eat. I’ll go buy it right now.
I folded my arms, standing still, my eyes cold as I watched him perform. Of course, I knew those cakes were Khloe’s handiwork.
The sticky note on the lid with the line, “Love you, Robert,” signed Khloe. Right now, it was clutched tightly in my hand.
But I didn’t expose him. Instead, I gave a soft smile.
So, it was a staff mistake.
I softened my tone, my face relaxing as if persuaded. It’s late. Don’t go anymore. You’ve been tired all day. Don’t even know how to take care of yourself.
I shot him a mock glare, pouting just enough to look like teasing.
A flicker of relief crossed Robert’s eyes, like a man just escaped punishment. He suddenly grabbed my hand.
Having a wife like you, I’m truly lucky.
That night, my phone buzzed with a hefty transfer notification from Robert. And on social media, a selfie of Chloe with a dramatic caption.
Turns out deep love can’t wait. Why do I love you, but you love someone else?
I smiled, turned off the phone, my finger sliding lightly over the screen. This game was only beginning.
The next morning, I woke with a start from a nightmare. sweat soaking the back of my shirt, my breath ragged. Robert rushed over, wrapping me in his arms, patting my back, his voice soothing.
Denise, it’s all right. Just a dream.
He pressed his cheek to my hair, his breath hot as if to calm me. I clutched his shirt front, squeezing so hard my nails dug into the fabric, sobbing.
I dreamed about our baby.
He chuckled softly, wiping my tears with his finger. his voice gentle. It was just a dream.
No, it wasn’t.
I feigned panic, burying my face in his chest, my shoulders shaking as if I couldn’t stop. I dreamed our baby said Daddy didn’t want it anymore. And mommy.
My voice trembled. My whole body trembling too, as if the nightmare still clung to me.
Robert held me tighter, his grip firm, his voice dropping low, worried. And mommy, what?
I curled into him, my voice, choked.
Mommy got depressed. Jumped off a building. The baby said, “Daddy left mommy and me for another woman.”
I looked up, my tearfilled eyes fixed on him, my gaze sharp as a blade. Robert froze. I felt his body go taut like a stretch string, his breath catching.
After a moment, he forced a smile, his lips twisting. No. How could I ever leave you in the baby?
He stroked my hair. I said nothing, only clutched his shirt tighter, letting my tears soak into it. He fumbled, trying to think of something to soothe me, stammering meaningless words.
Then, as if something occurred to me, I lifted my head, my voice bright with a sudden request.
Why don’t you transfer all the cash at home into my card?
Robert stiffened, his brows drawing together, his voice awkward. Why bring this up out of nowhere?
I pouted, eyes glossy, pretending to be hurt. Can’t bear to or was that day not really drunkenness. You actually saw her again before he could speak. I rushed on, my tone full of wounded softness.
Money in whose card is still marital property? People say a man without money can’t cheat. I just want to feel safe.
I looked at him.
Robert stayed silent, his hands gripping the edge of the table, his eyes flickering. At this point, he had no way out. Finally, he nodded, agreeing.
I watched with my own eyes as he moved the assets, then saw him to the door. Only when his back disappeared completely, did I let my smile fade.
Now, at last, I wouldn’t have to fight to reclaim assets during the marriage.
Later, two quiet days passed. I was getting ready to be admitted to the hospital, packing at home when Khloe showed up uninvited.
The season had turned. The wind was chilly. Yet, she wore a skimpy short dress with bare shoulders. As soon as she saw me, she curled her lips into a contemptuous smile, sharp as a blade.
To be a wife and end up like this is pathetic. If it were me, I’d have divorced him long ago.
She confidently pulled out her phone, opening a clip. her eyes gleaming with triumph.
In the video, she and Robert were tangled together, lips pressed close, his hands gripping her waist under the bedroom light.
I smiled inwardly, evidence delivered to my hands. But on the surface, I pretended anger, stumbling to snatch the phone, my eyes wide, watching over and over, my shoulders shaking like a pregnant wife collapsing at the discovery of her husband’s affair.
Chloe walked around my house with the arrogance of an owner, her fingers brushing over the sofa I had chosen, her lips curling in smuggness.
While she was busy admiring, I quickly linked my phone and transferred the video with a few silent taps. When it was done, I no longer bothered to fake it, lifting my head, my voice cold as ice.
You came here to ask for money, didn’t you? Fine. Tell me how many nights you’ve slept with my husband. Name a price and I’ll throw it at you.
Khloe froze, her eyes blazing, her face flushing red with fury. She lunged at me, spitting out curses without thinking.
Denise, you Today I’ll teach you a lesson.
Her finger jabbed at my face, her bright red nails flashing under the light. But before she could touch me, Robert rushed out from his study.
Kloe immediately screamed when she saw him. Robert, she insulted me.
But she didn’t see Robert’s face darken, his brows draw tight, his lips press into a hard line. He didn’t look at her, but walked straight to me.
“Honey, Chloe’s been mentally unstable since her divorce. She’s not well. Don’t let it affect the baby. I’ll take her away right now.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder, but I felt the tremor in his fingers. I nodded slightly, my eyes calm. I already had enough evidence of the affair. the video safe in my phone.
Robert exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. But when he turned to Khloe, his face darkened again, his hand clamping tightly around her wrist.
Kloe struggled, refusing, pointing at his face and shouting, “Robert, you lied to me. You said you loved me and it was all fake. Otherwise, how could you let her insult me like this?”
Her eyes blazed, her hair flying as she yanked free.
Finally, Robert snapped, shouting loud, his voice cracking like thunder.
Enough.
She’s my wife. If I don’t protect her, then who should I protect?
The shout made Khloe freeze, her eyes wide, her lips trembling. Robert stepped forward, his eyes flickering with guilt, but his voice still firm.
Stop making a scene. I’m taking you home.
He tugged at her hand, but Khloe jerked free, rushing toward me. Instinctively, I backed away. one hand clutching my pregnant belly, my heart hammering.
But she didn’t hit me. She just stood there staring at me with hatred so sharp it could devour me.
Then without warning, she pulled a bottle of pills from her bag, poured them all into her mouth, and swallowed without hesitation.
Robert panicked, lunging to grab her, his hands fumbling at her throat, his voice breaking.
Spit it out. Spit it out now.
Khloe laughed loudly, her face wild, her eyes gleaming like someone unhinged.
“Robert, I have nothing left. Even you want to abandon me.”
She laughed as she clawed his face, leaving red marks with her nails, muttering, her eerie laughter echoing through the room.
Even though I’d prepared myself, my face went pale, my hands gripping the edge of the table, the scene cutting through the air like a freezing blade, leaving me frozen, my breath caught in my chest.
Act eight. Robert couldn’t hold back his emotions, his hands trembling as he clutched Khloe, his voice breaking with panic.
I won’t let you die. We’re going to the hospital.
He lifted her up, rushing out, the pounding of his shoes against the floor, echoing like war drums.
And me, shaken by Khloe’s insane act, I suddenly felt a sharp pain tear through my belly. Warm liquid seeped from between my legs, soaking my dress, running down my legs.
Robert, I called weakly. I think I’m about to give birth.
His steps faltered at the door. He glanced back at me, his eyes brushing over my contracting belly, but only for a second.
At that moment, Khloe began foaming at the mouth and his arms, white froth spilling out as her body jerked weakly.
He turned back, his voice sharp with reproach.
Denise, don’t be jealous right now.
Then he turned and walked away, his footsteps charging down the hall without hesitation. He never looked back at me, leaving me clutching my belly, the pain spreading like knives through my body.
I forced myself through shaking hands to dial for an ambulance.
In that moment, the last shred of hope I had ever held for Robert vanished completely, like ash scattered in a cold wind.
3 days after giving birth, I lay in the hospital bed, exhausted but clear-headed, when Robert finally appeared, clutching a bouquet, his face uneasy, his eyes avoiding mine.
He took the baby from his mother’s arms, giving a strained smile as he muttered, “Chloe was admitted to the psychiatric ward for a breakdown. I couldn’t abandon her. I’ll ask my parents to help care for you.”
His words hit like a pause button, the air in the room tightening, the beeping of the heart monitor suddenly piercing.
Mrs. Smith took the baby back, holding her grandchild close, her hands trembling as she stroked softly.
Robert sensed the tension, stammering as if to ask something. But Mr. Smith stepped forward, jabbing a finger at his son, his face flushed, his voice almost choking with rage.
Chloe again? You left your wife in labor alone at home because of her. And you dare say that out loud?
Robert looked at me with irritation, his tone defensive.
You know what happened that night? Khloe’s life was at risk. Could I just not save her?
I turned my head away, silent, my eyes fixed on my sleeping baby.
Mrs. Smith couldn’t stand it anymore, her voice breaking.
I don’t want to see your face. All you care about is that Chloe.
She yanked at Robert’s arm. Take me to her then. If she wants to make a mess, do it at her own house. Why come here to ruin someone else’s home? Don’t you see how shameless that is?
Robert tried to stop his mother, but quickly turned his anger on me, his voice sharp.
Denise, why do you have to make everything turn out like this?
Did he really think I had provoked his parents? I was about to lash out when a weak voice came from the door.
Mr. and Mrs. Smith, please don’t blame Robert. If you’re angry, just blame me.
Chloe stood there, her face pale, a pitiful smile on her lips, her hospital gown wrinkled. The Smiths looked at her, then turned back to me lying in the bed.
Their anger so great they couldn’t even speak. Their mouths clamped shut, their fists trembling.
I stared at Robert, my voice cold.
You brought her here. What’s the meaning of this?
His face twisted with discomfort, his eyes shifty.
Give me some time. I’ll explain everything.
Then he reached to take Khloe’s hand, but froze halfway. Chloe yanked her hand away, stepping closer to me, her eyes wet.
Denise, without Robert, I really can’t live.
She pulled up her sleeve, revealing arms covered in cuts, old and new, fresh red wounds and faded scars criss-crossing like a map of madness.
I glanced once, then looked away, too disgusted to care, but keeping my composure. I fixed my eyes on Robert.
She says she can’t live without you. What do you mean by that?
Robert said nothing, cold sweat dripping down his temple as if battling a crushing choice.
Mrs. Smith, unable to watch, bent to help Kloe up.
Kloe, let Robert go.
But Kloe refused, her eyes desperate, staring up at him.
Robert, without you, I truly can’t live. You know that, don’t you?
Her words struck his weakness.
Mom, Dad, Denise, I’m sorry.
He looked at me with guilt, but his voice was firm.
Denise and the baby have you two to love them. But Khloe only has me. If she loses me, she’ll really die.
Khloe’s eyes welled with tears, whispering, “Robert!”
They clung to each other like doomed lovers. The Smiths looked at each other, stunned with rage, speechless. And inside me, I was utterly calm.
So, what you mean is you want me to file for divorce?
My own voice rang out cold and steady, every word like an arrow.
You cheated while I was pregnant. I demand a divorce and you will have no right to shared assets.
Robert’s face shifted, his lips moving, but no words came. Chloe panicked, tugging at his sleeve frantically.
I smirked, adding, “Oh, and by the way, the sex video you two made. Kloe herself sent it to me. I have all the proof of your affair. So, not only will you lose the assets, you’ll also be paying full child support.”
Robert couldn’t meet my eyes, only gave a painful nod.
Khloe exploded, pointing at me, screaming, “Who are you to make Robert give up his assets and demand he pay for that child? That might not even be his.”
Before she could finish, Mrs. Smith turned away, her voice cold.
“Get her out of here.”
“I support everything Denise decides.”
After the divorce, “You’re no longer my son.”
Robert collapsed, shouting, “Mother!”
Mr. Smith stepped up beside his wife. his voice low but firm.
I agree. Leave. From now on, we’ll act as if we never had a son like you.
Both turned to stand at my bedside. Mrs. Smith’s hand gripping mine tightly.
Tears streamed down my face. The truth was a big part of why I’d married Robert was because I loved Mr. and Mrs. Smith. They were kind, moral, good people who loved their children, making me, a girl who grew up without love, feel like I had touched my childhood dream.
I may have chosen the wrong man, but I never misjudged my in-laws.
Two months later, the divorce between Robert and me went through with surprising ease. Maybe he was too eager to marry Kloe because every condition I put forward, no matter how harsh, he nodded without hesitation.
On the day of the hearing, he showed up with hair dyed in garish streaks, red, blue, yellow, all mixed together like a chaotic painting.
Catching me staring, Robert cleared his throat, a flicker of embarrassment on his face, his voice low.
Chloe likes me dressing like this.
I said nothing, only smiled inwardly at myself, bitterness rising like the taste of black coffee.
So this is the difference between loving and not loving.
I once criticized his stiff way of dressing, suggested he try something younger. He frowned and snapped.
I’m not a student anymore. Why would I dress like a kid?
Yet now for Chloe, he was willing to turn himself into an oddball, wearing bizarre printed shirts and sparkling earrings.
As we parted outside the courthouse, Robert stopped me at the gate, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped, his voice hesitant.
“Uh, Chloe and I are going to register our marriage today. We’ve booked some tables at a hotel. Could you let Mr. and Mrs. S Smith know so they can come?”
He bowed his head, his garish hair falling over his eyes as if afraid I could see his shame.
I glanced at him, my eyes cold, my lips curling with contempt. so impatient. Divorce, marriage, all in one day.
His face flushed red. He only repeated, “Don’t forget to tell my parents, okay?”
I raised an indifferent brow, didn’t answer, just walked away. The words I’d pass on later.
Before I even got home, my phone rang. Robert’s number.
He said, “You don’t need to tell Mr. and Mrs. Smith anymore.”
It turned out Chloe refused to marry him. She told him, “Want to register?” Only if Robert throws a five-star hotel wedding in Las Vegas and gives her an expensive diamond ring.
But now Robert no longer had the money to spoil her.
The call ended as I lay on my large bed enjoying a relaxing massage. Even though Robert had left all the assets to me, Mr. and Mrs. Smith still felt guilty, transferring a large sum into my account along with a will, leaving their entire estate to my son.
The nanny cleaned. The caretaker watched the baby. A nutritionist came everyday to check our meals.
My life was like a queen’s without a single worry.
A month later, Robert called again.
Denise, I think I’m starting to regret it.
He took a deep breath, his voice trembling.
Lately, I keep thinking about you and the baby. I haven’t even really looked at my son.
His voice was full of remorse, like a lost man begging for a way back.
I sat on the sofa holding my sleeping son, my eyes on the family photo hanging on the wall. Only me and him now.
Can we start over? He asked, his voice shrinking as if afraid of rejection.
No, I answered firmly.
Robert, I’m not a place for you to turn back after throwing me away like trash. I’m not like you. So vile.
Without letting him speak again, I hung up.
I looked out the window, the moonlight falling on my son’s face, my heart light.
Congratulations to you and Chloe. May you cling to each other for life in the nightmare you chose.
A few calm days passed quickly like a breeze. But on my son’s first birthday, Robert suddenly showed up uninvited.
Compared to the smug man on the day of our divorce, now he was clearly a wreck. His shirt wrinkled, his once dyed hair, red, blue, yellow, all jumbled, had faded into a ridiculous, messy tangle.
He stood at the door, his eyes shifty like a thief.
Mrs. Smith, holding her grandson, looked at him with disappointment and disgust the moment she saw him. She didn’t bother with politeness, pointing straight to the door. her voice sharp as ice.
Get out. No one here wants to see you.
Robert flinched, his eyes immediately turning to me for help.
Denise, I’m still the father of the child.
His voice was small, almost pleading.
I stood still, holding my son.
Now you remember you’re his father. When I was fighting for life with our baby, you were holding your mistress.
Robert’s face drained of color. He couldn’t utter a word.
Mrs. Smith shook with rage, her hand gripping tighter, her voice nearly a scream, “Get out!”
Robert froze for a moment, then awkwardly pulled from his pocket a high-end toy, the silver plastic box gleaming.
Afraid we would refuse it, he shoved it into my hand, his trembling fingers brushing my skin, cold as ice.
for the baby,” he muttered, then turned, his steps stumbling as he left like a fugitive.
But just then, he ran into Khloe, blocking the hallway. She was still dressed as if it were Midsummer, a tight short dress clinging to her body. Just looking at her made me feel cold.
Robert, didn’t you say you were out of money?
Her voice rose sharp, shrill, her finger pointing at the toy in my hand.
The bag I wanted. You said you couldn’t afford, but now you have money to buy that woman’s kid an expensive toy.
Robert’s face darkened, his brows furrowed, his voice low and tense.
I bought a gift for my child. Even if we’re divorced, I’m still his father.
His hands clenched into fists as if holding back his anger.
Kloe went mad at his words.
Robert, you regret it, don’t you? You regret the divorce. Regret choosing me. Isn’t that it?
Her voice echoed down the hallway, crazed and bitter.
I stood there holding my son, my eyes cold, unwilling to be dragged into their mess of love and hate. I slammed the door shut, sealing off their world from mine.
But Khloe’s shrieking still seeped through, laced with hysteria.
Robert, let go of me. You cowardly bastard.
Her voice grew faint, broken, then finally fell silent, leaving only the sound of footsteps fading away.
I exhaled, placing my son gently into his crib, stroking his soft hair, my heart calm but heavy.
Chloe, this woman, was too unstable, like a bomb, ready to go off at any moment. I couldn’t allow myself or my child to be exposed to danger again.
Sitting on the sofa, I began seriously considering moving, leaving behind this place filled with toxic people and memories so my son could grow up in peace.
Since my son’s birthday, Robert had been calling me every day, his voice over the phone, droning on about how he regretted everything. But to me, it was only irritating.
And with one swipe of my finger, I blocked his number without hesitation.
Meanwhile, I quietly sped up my search for a new home. Finally, I settled on a place I loved, sunlight pouring through big windows, a small yard just right for my son to run around.
But when I arrived home, I froze.
Robert was slumped in front of my door, the stench of alcohol rising off him.
I was about to pretend not to see, to step over him, when he suddenly reached out, clutching my leg tightly, his fingers squeezing hard like he was afraid I’d vanish.
I bent down, annoyed, prying his hand off.
“Robert, you’ve got the wrong house. Leave. I don’t want Chloe showing up and going crazy here.”
He shuddered slightly, lifting his head to look at me.
Denise, I really regret it.
He rasped, holding his head like a man about to break.
I’ve truly forgotten her. That night, drunk when I saw you, your belly huge as you stood by the window. I really regretted it. I want to live quietly with you. Rebuild our family.
His hands dug into his hair, veins standing out, his whole body trembling.
Kloe isn’t anything like I thought. She’s shallow, vain, obsessed with money. I regret it,” he screamed, his voice cracking like he was tearing himself apart.
But I stood there cold as stone, my eyes on him without a flicker of sympathy, only the disgust rising in my chest.
Robert fell silent for a moment, gripping the stair railing as he struggled to stand, his body swaying like he might fall.
He twisted his mouth into a bitter, crooked smile.
“Denise! Is there really no chance for us anymore? We have a child together.”
I laughed out loud at his shamelessness.
Then Chloe appeared like a wandering ghost blocking the end of the hall. She stared at us coldly, her lips curling into a twisted smile.
In a tight short dress, her hair wild, she drifted closer like a cold wind, carrying a breath of madness.
Robert shouted at her, “Why are you here again? Why do you keep following me? Can’t you leave me alone?”
They stood there screaming at each other like two wild animals.
I rubbed my forehead, tired, my voice cutting through like ice.
Whatever’s between you two, don’t bring it to my door.
Robert glanced at me, embarrassment flickering across his face, muttering, “Denise, I’m sorry.”
I waved him off.
“Stop apologizing. The best thing you can do for me and my son is to stay far away.”
I stepped around the two lunatics, went inside, closed the door, the lock clicking neatly.
In just a few short steps, my breath came heavy, like I’d climbed a mountain, my heart pounding from the disgust.
This couple, Robert and Chloe, were like ghosts that never left, haunting my life like a nightmare.
I sat down on the sofa, covering my face with my hands, exhausted.
I must move soon, I thought, my resolve stronger than ever.
The next time I heard about Robert, I had long since moved into my new home. The weather had turned cold.
I was at home enjoying a warm dinner, savoring the peace, when an unexpected call came from a lawyer, telling me I needed to come handle Robert’s funeral arrangements.
Without thinking, I grabbed my coat, wrapped a scarf around my neck, and rushed out into the freezing air.
When I arrived, there was only an urn of cold ashes, Robert’s name carved into it.
The lawyer said he had died in a car accident.
That day, he was supposedly on his way to visit me and our son. On the road, in his rush to get back to a home, he didn’t know I had already sold. Kloe chased after him.
An argument broke out in the car, and then the crash happened.
A brief pang of sorrow flickered through me, but it vanished just as quickly.
The lawyer patted my shoulder, eyes heavy with sympathy.
Perhaps for him this is a release, he went on, voice slow as if turning the pages of a tragedy.
Robert had been ill, his body weakening for a long time, but he hid it.
Khloe was drowning in debt. Lone sharks circling, pushing Robert to the edge.
She lived recklessly. One man today, another tomorrow. Drunk, out of control, barely coming home.
Robert tried to reason with her, but she spat curses in his face.
Finally, crushed by disappointment, he cut ties.
You’d think that meant he could start over, but Kloe didn’t let go.
She secretly bought a large insurance policy, then came back with apologies and promises to change.
Robert, though more cautious, still let himself be swayed, his eyes wavering between hope and doubt.
On the day of the accident, he had just switched the insurance beneficiary to my son.
Chloe found out, her scheme collapsing. That’s why they fought.
I stood there staring at the ern, and I didn’t cry. My heart felt hollow, like a frozen lake.
Robert had dug his own grave, and Khloe was the final blade.
Even though Robert betrayed me, tore my heart apart with lies and abandonment, he was still the father of my child, a bond of blood I could not deny.
My hand trembled slightly as I signed the papers, arranging a decent funeral, not out of leftover love, but out of the last shred of compassion for a man who had lost his way.
I brushed my fingers over the ern and whispered in my heart, “I hope you find peace, Robert.”
Then I turned. My steps steady and final, leaving behind the shards of the past.
Back at my new home, warmth wrapped the air. Sunlight spilling across the wooden floor where my son played, his laughter ringing like windchimes.
I bent down, kissed his soft rosy cheek, the faint smell of milk soothing my heart.
He looked up, wide eyes sparkling, gripping my finger as if pulling me firmly into the present.
I smiled, stood, and made a cup of tea. The steam curling from the white porcelain, blending with the light scent of orange.
Outside, yellow leaves drifted down, the wind carrying a whisper that our life would only get better.
Day by day, moment by moment, I sat on the sofa, the heat of the cup spreading through my fingertips, my eyes moving around the home, the paintings I had chosen, shelves filled with my favorite books, and a little corner where my son made his first scribbles, Robert’s insurance money, the inheritance from Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and their unconditional love.
These had become wings lifting me from the cage of pain.
I had time now to live slowly, to hear my son’s laughter, to watch the crimson sunsets through the window.
Life could not be better. Not because of wealth, but because I had found freedom again.
The days of betrayal, the nights of clutching my son in the dark, the screams of Kloe, all of it had vanished.
I stroked my son’s hair, watching him sleep peacefully in his crib, my chest full of steady, gentle breath.
Freedom isn’t only about leaving pain behind. It’s choosing how to live for myself and for the love that deserves it.
Sometimes freedom isn’t running from the past, but learning to let go and letting love guide the way into new.