His First Love Killed My Unborn - Chapter 9: Chapter 9
You are reading His First Love Killed My Unborn, Chapter 9: Chapter 9. Read more chapters of His First Love Killed My Unborn.
He kept calling me—over and over—until I finally caved and answered.
His voice cracked on the line, choked with tears.
"Baby, I messed up. That woman played me. Do whatever you want—yell, scream, anything. Just don't leave me. Give me one more chance, please?"
I stayed silent and hung up.
The calls didn't stop. I lost count of how many times I hit decline.
Finally, he gave up and slid into my DMs on Instagram.
"Wait for me, okay? I'll prove I've changed."
I deleted the message without hesitation.
Why bother?
A week later, the trial started. Paula's texts and videos were all the proof the court needed—lan had cheated, no question.
That night, another notification popped up from him.
I opened it—and my stomach dropped.
A photo.
Paula, slumped on the floor, hair wild, face swollen with fresh bruises.
"Look what I did for you, baby. She's the reason we lost our child. The reason we're here."
My skin crawled.
This was his idea of remorse?
He'd treated Paula like trash too.
It takes two to wreck a marriage, but he was pinning it all on her.
Disgusting.
I swiped the chat away, exhausted.
Seconds later, my phone lit up again—lan, calling.
"It's over with Paula. She won't come near you again. I swear. Just come home. I'll pick you up tomorrow, yeah?"
My voice was ice. "Whatever you two did means nothing to me. Don't show your face until court."
I hung up—and for the first time in months, I could breathe.
Soon, I'd be free.
I filed the papers that same day.
When lan got served, reality must've hit him.
The calls started again. Relentless.
I answered, against my better judgment.
He was sobbing so hard he could barely speak.
"Baby, I—I was an idiot. She tricked me. Punish me however you want. Just don't divorce me. Let me fix this."
Silence. Then the click of me hanging up.
He kept trying. I kept ignoring.
Instagram again: "Wait. I'll show you I mean it."
Deleted.
Pointless.
A week later, court. Paula's evidence sealed it—lan was guilty as sin.
That night, another DM.
I opened it—and my blood ran cold.
A photo.
Paula, crumpled on the ground, hair matted, face streaked with tears and red handprints.
"Did this for you. She ruined us. Took our baby. Destroyed everything."
A shiver shot down my spine.
This was his apology?
The same man who'd hurt me had turned on her just as easily.
He wanted a scapegoat. A way to dodge blame.
Pathetic.
I closed the app, drained.
The phone rang immediately.
"Paula's out of the picture. For good. I mean it this time. Come home. I'll get you tomorrow, okay?"
His voice cracked on the line, choked with tears.
"Baby, I messed up. That woman played me. Do whatever you want—yell, scream, anything. Just don't leave me. Give me one more chance, please?"
I stayed silent and hung up.
The calls didn't stop. I lost count of how many times I hit decline.
Finally, he gave up and slid into my DMs on Instagram.
"Wait for me, okay? I'll prove I've changed."
I deleted the message without hesitation.
Why bother?
A week later, the trial started. Paula's texts and videos were all the proof the court needed—lan had cheated, no question.
That night, another notification popped up from him.
I opened it—and my stomach dropped.
A photo.
Paula, slumped on the floor, hair wild, face swollen with fresh bruises.
"Look what I did for you, baby. She's the reason we lost our child. The reason we're here."
My skin crawled.
This was his idea of remorse?
He'd treated Paula like trash too.
It takes two to wreck a marriage, but he was pinning it all on her.
Disgusting.
I swiped the chat away, exhausted.
Seconds later, my phone lit up again—lan, calling.
"It's over with Paula. She won't come near you again. I swear. Just come home. I'll pick you up tomorrow, yeah?"
My voice was ice. "Whatever you two did means nothing to me. Don't show your face until court."
I hung up—and for the first time in months, I could breathe.
Soon, I'd be free.
I filed the papers that same day.
When lan got served, reality must've hit him.
The calls started again. Relentless.
I answered, against my better judgment.
He was sobbing so hard he could barely speak.
"Baby, I—I was an idiot. She tricked me. Punish me however you want. Just don't divorce me. Let me fix this."
Silence. Then the click of me hanging up.
He kept trying. I kept ignoring.
Instagram again: "Wait. I'll show you I mean it."
Deleted.
Pointless.
A week later, court. Paula's evidence sealed it—lan was guilty as sin.
That night, another DM.
I opened it—and my blood ran cold.
A photo.
Paula, crumpled on the ground, hair matted, face streaked with tears and red handprints.
"Did this for you. She ruined us. Took our baby. Destroyed everything."
A shiver shot down my spine.
This was his apology?
The same man who'd hurt me had turned on her just as easily.
He wanted a scapegoat. A way to dodge blame.
Pathetic.
I closed the app, drained.
The phone rang immediately.
"Paula's out of the picture. For good. I mean it this time. Come home. I'll get you tomorrow, okay?"
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