When It All Fell Apart

It was our wedding anniversary when my husband's high school sweetheart posted a picture on her social media, with her captioning a public thank-you to my husband: [Thank you to the man who's been there for me for ten years, and for giving me a son.]

The room spun, and anger surged through me as I quickly commented: [So, you're proud of being a homewrecker?]

Almost immediately, my husband called, his voice full of rage. "How can you think such disgusting things? All I did was help her with IVF, fulfilling her dream of becoming a single mom.

"And by the way, Ruby only needed one try to get pregnant, while you’ve been through three rounds with nothing. Your body is useless!"

Just three days ago, he told me he was going abroad for business—ignoring my calls and messages the entire time. I thought he was just busy. However, it turned out he was with her, attending her prenatal checkup.

Half an hour later, Ruby posted again, showing off a table full of delicious food.

[Ash made me all my favorite dishes. He’s the best!]

——

I stared at the pregnancy test in my hand, the joy I had felt earlier now completely gone. After eight years of love and six years of swallowing my pride just to keep the marriage alive, I’m finally ready to let go.

After hanging up the phone, I took a picture of the beautifully prepared dinner and the cake I had baked for our sixth anniversary and sent it to my husband, Ashton Martinez.

His reply came back quickly.

[Is it your birthday? I’m flying out, so I can’t make it home tonight. Just celebrate on your own.]

I chuckled bitterly and tossed the cake into the trash.

Whether it was my birthday or our anniversary, it did not matter because Ashton never remembered those things. However, when it came to Ruby Lowe, he had an entire notebook dedicated to her. He had been keeping notes of her life since high school.

I glanced at the pregnancy test results on the table and quietly put them away. I had planned to surprise Ashton with them over dinner tonight, but now, it seemed pointless.

We had been married for six years without any kids. I had gone through three rounds of IVF, each one more painful than the last, and they all failed. I had almost given up hope this time when, to my shock, I found out I was pregnant.

Yet, before I could even be happy about it, I saw Ruby’s post on social media. For all I knew, she might have done her IVF on the same day, using my husband’s sperm, and here I was, the fool, kept in the dark, oblivious to everything.

I pulled the food toward me, even though I had no appetite. For the sake of the baby, I forced myself to take a few bites. However, the moment the smell of the meaty steak hit me,