"It's alright. We can try again. My father would be overjoyed to know you can bear children."

My emotions surged, and I lashed out at him, my voice cracking with anguish.

"Do you have any idea that Paul risked his life trying to salvage our marriage?

"He collapsed right in front of your hotel, unable to rise. I discovered it through his health tracker and frantically called you, yet all you cared about was Stella!"

Exhausted, I slid down the wall, my strength spent.

"You make it sound like it's true. Wasn't it just because I neglected you on Valentine's Day? You're still concocting tales about me!"

His callousness was suffocating, a relentless tide that threatened to engulf me.

No matter what was said, he remained entrenched in his own reality, impervious to the truth.

The ache in my lower back intensified, a sharp reminder of my need for medical attention.

"Move aside. I need to get to the hospital for a check-up," I demanded, my voice icy.

Out of the corner of his eye, Scott noticed a fresh bloodstain on my pants, and a flicker of concern crossed his features.

"Is your old injury flaring up again? Let me take you there," he suggested.

I answered him indifferently.

"It's none of your concern."

Ignoring my protest, he hurried downstairs and positioned his car to block my path.

"Get in. It's crucial to tend to your wounds. If you hadn't shielded me, you wouldn't have..."

His words were cut short by the shrill ring of his phone.

"Scott, my stomach feels uneasy. I fear something might be wrong with our baby. Can you come and fetch me?"

Scott frowned.

"Stella, don't panic. I'll be there shortly."

Ending the call, he turned to me with an apologetic expression.

"Yvonne, I'm sorry, but I can't forsake Stella and the child she carries..."

I waved him off, urging him to leave without delay.

Without a moment's hesitation, he revved the engine and sped away, leaving me standing alone.

I laughed bitterly to myself.

I just harbored a fleeting hope that he might recall the bond of our youth, which dashed against the rocks of reality.

As expected, in his heart, Stella reigned supreme.

From the innocent beginnings of our childhood affection to the clandestine adoration of our youth, Scott and I had been the epitome of a campus romance.

From a naive girl to a poised stage performer, I had always chased the same man.

On our wedding day eight years ago, he had pledged, "Yvonne, you are the joy of my youth and the love I hold dearest for life."

I had cherished those words.

I clung to them even as our marriage frayed. Although he continued to neglect his familial duties, I harbored no resentment, tending to his father and managing the household in his stead.

During a trip we took after Scott's Ph.D. graduation, our car careened out of control and slammed into a tree.

The impact was directed at his side, and instinctively, I lunged to shield him.

He emerged unscathed while I was left with debilitating injuries to my waist and arms, forever barring me from the stage I adored.

Kneeling by my bedside, Scott pleaded with tears.

He held my hands and vowed to care for me for all our days.

I had believed that a lifetime, once promised, would indeed last a lifetime.

Yet, the passage of time eroded the freshness of first love.

The vows spoken in the throes of passion were as fragile as bubbles in the sunlight.

"Ms. Smith, please proceed to the first floor to collect your medication."

The doctor's voice pulled me back from my reverie.

Emerging from the hospital, I went to the lakeside park, hoping to find a moment of peace amidst the chaos of my life.

Fate, however, had other plans. As I approached the riverbank, I bumped into Scott and Stella.

Peering through the gaps of several fences, I spotted Stella approaching, her arms cradling something that resembled a turtle.

"Yvonne, I heard from Scott that your back injury flared up after your miscarriage. A friend gifted me this turtle, but it's a pity that pregnant women can't consume it. I was thinking of asking Scott to release it into the wild.

"You seem so frail; why don't you come to our home today? I'll prepare a pot of soup to nourish you."

Her eyes were gleaming with a pride that she could not quite hide.

Irritated by her overt display, I responded icily.

"Leave it to Scott; he and the turtle are quite the pair."

A flicker of panic darted across Stella's eyes, but she quickly masked it.

Scott, standing protectively in front of her, wore a gloomy expression.

"Yvonne, what are you babbling about?

"Stella, a pregnant woman, wishes to cook for you personally. How can you be so ungrateful?"

A trace of guilt fleeted across Stella's features, and she buried her face in Scott's embrace.

"Scott, it's all my fault for upsetting Yvonne."

Her voice quivered as if on the brink of tears.

Impressed by her act, Scott spoke sternly.

"Some people are not worth your concern. Your kindness is often taken for granted!"

I observed this spectacle in silence, and my interest in the boating excursion was thoroughly dampened. I decided to head straight home.

"Scott, don't forget our appointment at 8:30 tomorrow."

I reminded him before turning away.

An indignant voice echoed from behind.

"Yvonne, you'll regret this one day!"

Upon returning home and tidying up Scott's and Stella's belongings, I reached out to Lisa Fox, my best friend from the drama troupe.

Upon hearing of my intention to divorce Scott, she expressed her eagerness to fly over immediately.

"Yvonne, congratulations on embarking on a new chapter of your life," she said.

Her words choked me up slightly

Lisa and I had grown up together, sharing every secret and hardship.

She had always known about Scott's infidelity, yet out of gratitude for Paul's upbringing, I had hesitated to sever ties with Scott.

The following morning, Lisa accompanied me to await Scott.

Scott was nowhere to be seen.

Around noon, a voice message from him popped up on my phone.

I frowned and played it.

"Yvonne, Stella mentioned she can't be around cooking fumes while pregnant. I'm bringing our home to cook for her. I won't be able to divorce you today."

His words struck a cold chord within me.

When Paul was alive, Scott had never cooked at home. Now, he was overly attentive to Stella.

Lisa, beside me, was nearly fuming.

"You haven't even divorced yet, but he has already brought the mistress home to cook for her!

"Let's go and confront those two scoundrels!"

Half an hour later, I returned home to find Stella affectionately hugging Scott's neck on the sofa.

Leftovers from their meal littered the table.

Stella greeted me with a smile as if she was the true hostess.

"Yvonne, you're back with your guests. Please, sit and join us for a meal," she invited.

Lisa directly retorted.

"Who would be interested in the leftovers of a dog's meal?"

Stella's eyes reddened instantly.

"I merely wanted you to taste Scott's cooking."

This time, Scott did not rush to comfort Stella. Instead, he held a plastic bag in his hand and fixed his gaze on me as he questioned sternly, "Yvonne, why does our family possess the ownership certificate of the cemetery?"

A sharp pang of grief pierced my heart as I snatched the certificate from Scott's grasp.

"Isn't it obvious? Paul is dead," I retorted.