Bleeding Out for My Husband's First Love

When Chad reached home, the nightlight in the nursery was still on.

Its warm glow pooled over the brand-new crib, which was neatly made with the sheets I had washed and dried.

My hospital bag sat wide open on the couch, packed with tiny clothes and diapers. On the entryway shoe rack lay my pregnancy journal. And on the dining table was a note with my pre-written postpartum meal plan.

Chad looked around the empty living room. His brows furrowed deeper.

He probably expected to find me sitting on the couch waiting for him, demanding to know why he saved Lucy first with red-rimmed eyes.

But the house was dead quiet, save for the ticking of the wall clock.

He walked over to the table and picked up the note.

On the back of it was an emergency contingency plan I had written out for my delivery. "If I hemorrhage, please prioritize the baby. If I don't make it off the operating table, please tell Chad never to let Lucy near our child."

Chad let out a cold sneer, crumpled the note into a ball, and tossed it into the trash can.

"Playing these scare tactics again," he muttered.

He pulled out his phone and dialed my number again.

The line offered nothing but a cold, automated voice stating the phone was turned off.

Switching to the messaging app, he tapped the screen forcefully.

"That's enough. Your due date is any day now. Stop risking your health over a grudge.

"I've already handled the situation with Lucy. She's a patient. Don't need to keep score with her.

"Once you're on maternity leave, you'll have some free time to keep Lucy company and help her through this with some counseling."

The messages were sent, but the silence remained unbroken.

Chad threw his phone onto the couch and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Right then, his phone rang.

The caller ID showed Professor Eve Richards, my medical school advisor, who had always treated me like her own daughter.

Chad answered, his tone shifting back to his usual polite but detached voice. "Professor Richards, what can I do for you?"

"Chad, where are you right now?" Eve's voice was trembling, thick with suppressed rage.

Chad glanced at the crumpled note in the trash, naturally assuming I had run to complain.

"I'm at home. If Caitlin sent you to play mediator, you can save your breath. If she wants an apology, she can walk back through that door herself. She's about to be a mother, yet she's still acting this spoiled."

A heavy, ragged breath came through the receiver. "Spoiled? Chad, do you have any idea what happened last night?"

"Of course I do," Chad said, his tone turning icy. "Lucy had an episode and accidentally scratched her. I already had Lucy apologize. What more does she want?

"If she feels that wronged, I'll buy her that jewelry set she's been eyeing for months as compensation once the baby is born."

"Are you even human?" Eve roared into the phone. "I don't care how much you usually favor that other woman, but last night was her due date! You—"

Before Eve could finish speaking, Chad's second phone started buzzing. It was a video call from Lucy.

Without a second thought, he hung up on Eve.

He answered the video call, and Lucy's tear-streaked face filled the screen.

"Chad, you have to come back! Quick! I dreamed about her! She came after me with a knife, saying she was going to kill me! I'm so scared!"

Chad stood up and grabbed his car keys without a moment's hesitation. "Don't be scared. I'm on my way."

As he reached the entryway, his eyes caught a beautifully wrapped velvet box.

It was a silver baby anklet he had picked up on a whim while attending a medical forum last week.

Engraved on it was the name he had casually thrown out—Grace.

It seemed he originally planned to use it to appease me after the delivery.

He slipped the box into his pocket and locked the door behind him.

…

By the time Chad rushed into the VIP suite, Lucy was cowering in the corner of her bed, pointing out the window and screaming, "She's here! She's holding the baby, and she's coming for me!"

The curtains in the room were drawn shut, blocking out every sliver of light.

On the nightstand, a phone played a loop of a fetal monitor alarm on full blast.

Scattered across the floor were the shredded pieces of a 3D ultrasound photo—the one I had waited in line all by myself to get when I was six months pregnant.

Lucy covered her ears, thrashing wildly on the bed. "It's Caitlin! She's the one texting me these curses! She said she and the baby will never forgive me! She wants to drag me to hell with them!"

Chad strode over and wrapped his arms tightly around her. "It's okay. You're safe. It's just a hallucination."

"It's not a hallucination! Look at my phone!" Lucy pointed a trembling finger at the device on the floor.

Chad picked it up. On the screen was a text message from an unknown number. "You stole my husband. My baby and I will haunt you for the rest of your life."

Chad's face instantly darkened.

He knew this tone all too well. In the past, whenever I was driven to a breaking point, I would confront him with that same look of despair.

"She has completely lost her mind."

Chad gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with absolute disappointment. "Using a baby to terrorize a patient? Is this her idea of medical ethics?"

Floating in midair, I saw Lucy bury her face in his chest with a cold smirk playing on her lips.

Of course she knew I was dead.

Last night, when she drove that knife into me, her eyes had been terrifyingly lucid.

She had even calmly pressed the handle into my hand after pulling it out, creating the illusion of a struggle.

And now, she was using a dead woman's name to keep playing the victim in front of Chad.

Chad pulled out his own phone and dialed the number to the medical administration office.

"Mr. Benson, it's Chad. Please cancel my wife's fellowship placement for next year. Her emotional state during this pregnancy has been extremely unstable. She's showing paranoid and aggressive tendencies, so she isn't fit to treat patients right now.

"Yes. I'll submit a formal psychological evaluation report later."

With just a few words, he stripped away three years of my hard work.

He even used his professional status to brand me as mentally unstable.

After hanging up, he sent me one final ultimatum. "Get to the hospital within ten minutes and apologize to Lucy face-to-face.

"Otherwise, once the baby is born, I'm not letting you act out like this anymore. I will seriously consider having you suspend your residency to focus on being a stay-at-home mom.

The text went through, but the silence remained unbroken.

Lucy clutched the hem of his shirt, sobbing hysterically. "Chad, I'll never be able to have kids of my own. Why does she have to use a baby to provoke me?"

As Chad looked at her pale face, a pang of guilt flashed through his eyes.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the velvet box that was meant for me.

With a soft click, it snapped open.

The silver baby anklet gleamed under the room's light. The name "Grace" engraved on it was glaringly sharp.

"Don't be scared. I'll always be here with you."

Chad took Lucy's hand and placed the anklet meant for my child right into her palm. "Take this. Consider it her apology."

Lucy wiped away her tears and smiled, squeezing the anklet tightly in her fist.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the room. The door to the suite was kicked violently open from the outside.

Eve stood at the threshold, breathing heavily. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and her eyes were bloodshot with rage.

She lunged forward, swung her arm, and slapped Chad across the face.

The sharp crack of a slap echoed through the quiet room.

Eve's voice shook violently. "She and the baby are both dead, and you're using the anklet for her baby to comfort the murderer?"