The Day I Lost My Baby, His Mistress Flaunted Her Matching Bracelet novel Chapter 8

I ignored the pain in my stomach and forced myself to drive to the ER.

The doctor examined my reports, sighing repeatedly before insisting I stay in the hospital for a full week for observation.

I turned off my phone for that entire week, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling or out the window, silent and empty.

Sometimes, I'd wake up in the middle of the night, tears blurring my vision, hating myself for being weak enough to cry.

Seven years of love, a long journey from dating to marriage—I never thought it would end like this.

Not long after our wedding, Nathan's dad started demanding grandkids.

When my belly stayed flat, his words became crueler by the day.

At first, Nathan stood by my side, willing to fight his father for me.

But at some point, he changed.

He started echoing his father's words, blaming me for not getting pregnant.

Then he began quoting nonsense from the internet about "genetic incompatibility" and how we'd never have kids together.

But it wasn't just him—I wanted a baby, too.

Nathan always said our child would have the happiest life because we'd give them all our love.

And yet…

Would that love have meant anything in a broken home?

When Nathan found out I had been pregnant—and that I had ended the pregnancy—he must have been devastated.

But I don't regret it.

I know what it feels like to be in unbearable pain.

And now, I want him to suffer more than I ever did.

When I finally turned my phone back on, I saw hundreds of missed calls and a wall of text messages—thousands of words long.

His emotions bled through the screen, from angry accusations to hopeless despair.

He knew exactly why I had done it, yet he kept making excuses for himself, pretending to be the victim.

He thought he had hidden his affair with Zoe perfectly.

He never expected to be exposed so completely.

He wanted an explanation.

I stared at my screen, my hands trembling.

"Let me go. It's for the best. Stop this."

Back when we were dating, he had said those same words to me every time he tried to break up.

Now that I had thrown them back at him, he didn't call again.

He didn't send another text.

Even if the Nathan I once loved stood in front of me, he could never match the one in my memories.

Mr. Whitmore had long since reached financial freedom, running a massive company where employees bowed their heads and greeted him with reverence.

Somewhere along the way, we had become complete strangers.

After I was discharged, I returned to work.

My coworkers seemed to sense something had changed, but I only responded with a polite smile.

To fill the gap in my department, the company had hired a fresh-out-of-college recruit to assist me—a young guy who was technically my subordinate.

Seeing him was like looking at a younger Nathan—bright-eyed, full of energy.

Every morning, a perfectly brewed Americano would appear on my desk, and in the afternoons, a cup of tea at just the right temperature.

Whenever I had to work late, he'd linger around the office, pretending to be busy, shyly asking if I wanted to grab dinner.

One day, he hesitantly asked if I had a boyfriend.

I smiled and told him, "I'm about to be divorced."

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