After His Secretary Caused My Miscarriage, I Divorced Him

On my birthday, my husband's secretary brought me a bouquet of flowers.

Unfortunately, I was allergic to the pollen, which led to the loss of the baby I was carrying. A colleague called my husband, but he was indifferent. "What's with all the drama? I already sent her a gift. Now what is this fuss about?" he grumbled.

When the doctor required a family member's signature, he was equally dismissive. "It's just an allergy, isn't it? Do I really need to show up for this?" he scoffed.

I vaguely overheard him comforting his tearful secretary.

After the operation, I saw a post by his secretary on Instagram. It read, "Love is like nurturing flowers; I've found the one who truly cherishes me," accompanied by a picture of her with my husband. The bouquet she held was even larger.

It became clear to me that the alleged gift was merely something the secretary had discarded. I managed a bitter laugh and left a comment. "Wishing you a lifetime of happiness and many children."

Within moments, Grady called. "Matilda, what are you posting? Delete it immediately! People will get the wrong idea," he ordered. "How is this going to help Catherine find a boyfriend? Apologize to her at once!"

He scolded me sharply over the phone, oblivious to the fact that I was recovering from a life-threatening situation.

Before I could respond, Catherine's syrupy voice chimed in. "Grady, please don't raise your voice to Matilda. I'm sure she didn't mean it. I don't need her to apologize."

Grady's tone softened as he reassured Catherine, showing none of the frustration he had directed at me. "When someone makes a mistake, they should apologize. You don't need to speak for Matilda."

Catherine coyly praised him, "I never realized how principled you are, Grady. I'd be fortunate to find a boyfriend like you someday." Her words left me stunned.

Grady was once a name reserved for my use alone. Now, he freely allowed another woman to call him by it, granting her the privileges he once afforded only me. When did I cease to be his exception?

The hospital room was silent except for their conversation echoing through my phone.

"Hey, Matilda, did you hear me? Stop acting like you can't."

"It's convenient that you and Catherine share the same birthday; we'll just celebrate together. Don't be late at 6:30 tonight." He hung up abruptly, not even allowing me a chance to respond.

Today is my birthday, yet here I am, lying in a hospital bed. Earlier at the office, I received a gift from Grady’s secretary, Catherine. Upon opening the box, I discovered a small bunch of flowers inside.

I have a severe pollen allergy, and by the time I realized what the gift was, it was too late. I quickly felt an overwhelming sense of suffocation and lost consciousness.

My colleagues rushed me to the hospital. After resuscitation, I briefly regained awareness. The doctor explained that to save my life, I needed medication