His First Love Killed My Unborn - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
You are reading His First Love Killed My Unborn, Chapter 2: Chapter 2. Read more chapters of His First Love Killed My Unborn.
"Are you okay, Paula? Hold on, I'm coming to help you." Ian's voice through the phone sent a fresh wave of pain through my chest, each heartbeat spreading the agony further.
My baby was gone. My husband was miles away. Playing knight in shining armor for another woman.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
Tears blurred my vision as I unlocked my phone. Without thinking, I tapped Ian's Instagram profile and typed: "When you get back, we're getting divorced."
The read receipt appeared immediately. Then... nothing.
Of course. He was probably already halfway to Paula's place - just like he'd raced to me in our early days.
An hour later, his typing bubble finally appeared.
Then: "Still playing the spoiled princess? Always with the breakup threats."
Another message popped up before I could respond: "And look at yourself. Eight months pregnant - who'd even want you if you left?"
My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped my phone. In the darkened screen, my reflection stared back - pale, tear-streaked, broken.
I wiped my face with trembling fingers. "I'd rather be alone than stay married to a monster like you," I typed, each word feeling like shards of glass in my throat. "You're not even human, Ian."
Silence. His favorite weapon.
I remembered how he used to beg for forgiveness when we fought, showering me with affection until I smiled again. Those days were long gone.
At discharge, the nurse gave me a pitying smile. "Your husband must be something special," she said pointedly while helping me into the wheelchair. "Too busy to pick up his wife after losing a child?"
I forced a smile that hurt my face. "He's busy with his first love. Couldn't break away."
Her smile vanished. She didn't say another word.
Outside, the city roared with midday traffic. Cars whizzed past as I stood frozen on the sidewalk, suddenly homeless.
Home was too far. The doctor had warned against long trips - my body still thought it was pregnant.
I booked a cheap hotel nearby. While unpacking, I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My stomach still protruded cruelly, as if nothing had changed. As if my baby was still...
I had to get out.
At the mall, I mechanically grabbed toiletries and basic clothes. Then I heard it - that giggle I'd recognize anywhere.
"Ian, does this look good on me?"
Paula stood preening in front of a lingerie store mirror, spilling out of some lacy contraption. Ian lounged on the plush sofa, drinking her in with that look I used to know so well.
"You'd look good in a potato sack, babe," he said, grinning.
The salesgirl beamed. "Your husband has excellent taste! That's our most popular set."
Paula blushed but didn't correct her.
I stepped inside before I could stop myself. "Might as well take off the panties too," I said coldly. "For the full effect."
Ian whirled around like he'd been shot. Paula's face went sheet-white.
"Sherrie?" Ian jumped up, voice cracking. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Paula instantly morphed into wounded innocence. "Sherrie, please don't misunderstand! Ian was just helping me shop for New Year's things when I saw this store..."
I cut her off with a bitter laugh. "Funny," I said to Ian. "The man who refused to buy pads for his pregnant wife is suddenly an expert on lingerie? No shame at all?"
Ian opened and closed his mouth like a fish.
Tears welled in Paula's eyes as she clutched her chest. "This is all my fault! Ian, I've caused you so much trouble..."
Perfect. Just perfect. The white lotus routine was Oscar-worthy.
My baby was gone. My husband was miles away. Playing knight in shining armor for another woman.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
Tears blurred my vision as I unlocked my phone. Without thinking, I tapped Ian's Instagram profile and typed: "When you get back, we're getting divorced."
The read receipt appeared immediately. Then... nothing.
Of course. He was probably already halfway to Paula's place - just like he'd raced to me in our early days.
An hour later, his typing bubble finally appeared.
Then: "Still playing the spoiled princess? Always with the breakup threats."
Another message popped up before I could respond: "And look at yourself. Eight months pregnant - who'd even want you if you left?"
My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped my phone. In the darkened screen, my reflection stared back - pale, tear-streaked, broken.
I wiped my face with trembling fingers. "I'd rather be alone than stay married to a monster like you," I typed, each word feeling like shards of glass in my throat. "You're not even human, Ian."
Silence. His favorite weapon.
I remembered how he used to beg for forgiveness when we fought, showering me with affection until I smiled again. Those days were long gone.
At discharge, the nurse gave me a pitying smile. "Your husband must be something special," she said pointedly while helping me into the wheelchair. "Too busy to pick up his wife after losing a child?"
I forced a smile that hurt my face. "He's busy with his first love. Couldn't break away."
Her smile vanished. She didn't say another word.
Outside, the city roared with midday traffic. Cars whizzed past as I stood frozen on the sidewalk, suddenly homeless.
Home was too far. The doctor had warned against long trips - my body still thought it was pregnant.
I booked a cheap hotel nearby. While unpacking, I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My stomach still protruded cruelly, as if nothing had changed. As if my baby was still...
I had to get out.
At the mall, I mechanically grabbed toiletries and basic clothes. Then I heard it - that giggle I'd recognize anywhere.
"Ian, does this look good on me?"
Paula stood preening in front of a lingerie store mirror, spilling out of some lacy contraption. Ian lounged on the plush sofa, drinking her in with that look I used to know so well.
"You'd look good in a potato sack, babe," he said, grinning.
The salesgirl beamed. "Your husband has excellent taste! That's our most popular set."
Paula blushed but didn't correct her.
I stepped inside before I could stop myself. "Might as well take off the panties too," I said coldly. "For the full effect."
Ian whirled around like he'd been shot. Paula's face went sheet-white.
"Sherrie?" Ian jumped up, voice cracking. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Paula instantly morphed into wounded innocence. "Sherrie, please don't misunderstand! Ian was just helping me shop for New Year's things when I saw this store..."
I cut her off with a bitter laugh. "Funny," I said to Ian. "The man who refused to buy pads for his pregnant wife is suddenly an expert on lingerie? No shame at all?"
Ian opened and closed his mouth like a fish.
Tears welled in Paula's eyes as she clutched her chest. "This is all my fault! Ian, I've caused you so much trouble..."
Perfect. Just perfect. The white lotus routine was Oscar-worthy.
End of His First Love Killed My Unborn Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to His First Love Killed My Unborn book page.