His Childhood Sweetheart Returned, So I Chose Vengeance

In the second year of my marriage, my husband's childhood sweetheart came back from studying abroad.

The very first night she returned, she secretly poked holes in every condom my husband and I had.

My parents' murders were still unavenged. I'd made it clear: no children.

"Ellie just finished school. She's young. She doesn't understand these things. Just take the pill," he said.

He knew full well I was allergic to oral contraceptives, yet he still said those words to protect a girl his family had taken in.

Even after taking the pill, I still got pregnant.

The day the doctors told me the ectopic pregnancy couldn't be saved, I called my husband, who was busy throwing a graduation party for Eleanor Lambert.

"Paul, I think I'm having a miscarriage."

Paul Fletcher was doing something on the other end. Heavy breathing crackled through the phone. "Jessica Pruitt! There's a limit to how far you can push this. Didn't you take the pill? Where the hell did a baby come from? Have you been sleeping around behind my back?"

I hung up in despair and dialed 911.

The next day, Paul finally showed up at the hospital with Eleanor in tow, both of them looking thoroughly satisfied.

Without a word, he slapped me across the face and wrapped his hand around my throat. "Jessica, you really were screwing someone else behind my back?"

My cheek burned, but that pain didn't amount to a thousandth of what was tearing through my abdomen.

——

He didn't let go until my eyes rolled back and I couldn't breathe.

My vision swam as I stared at his neck. A bright red hickey. I let out a cold laugh. "Funny. Which one of us is the cheater here?"

Paul faltered for a split second, then tugged his collar straight. "It was just a dare. A party game. Besides, Ellie's like a sister to me. You really think something could happen between us?"

Then he turned it back on me. "Now talk. Whose bastard did you just lose? Who's the man?"

Two years of dating. One year of marriage. And all it amounted to was this: he didn't trust me.

I sat there, face white as paper, my voice scraped raw. "One of the side effects of emergency contraceptives is ectopic pregnancy."

Two weeks earlier, Eleanor Lambert had returned from studying abroad. Her family and the Fletchers went way back.

Her adoptive parents had died years ago, and she'd lived with the Fletcher family ever since.

The moment she walked through the door, she announced she wanted to sleep in our master bedroom. Her old room hadn't been used in so long, she said, that it smelled like mildew. She asked Paul and me to spend just one night in her room instead.

I didn't want to. That bedroom held so many memories between Paul and me, every small and precious one.

The thought of handing it over to a complete stranger I'd never even met sat wrong in my gut.

I was sure Paul would say no. Instead, he ruffled Eleanor's hair with an indulgent smile. "Fine. But just one night."

Right in front of me, Eleanor hooked her arm through Paul's and pressed herself against him. "I knew you'd be the best to me, Paul."

Then she turned to look at me. "You don't mind, do you, Jess?"

I opened my mouth, ready to say that I did mind.

Paul cut me off. "Of course she doesn't mind. You think everyone's as petty as you?" He gave Eleanor a gentle push toward the stairs. "Go on up and get some rest. You're still jet-lagged."

I stood at the foot of the staircase, watching them laugh and jostle their way up, feeling like a stranger in my own home.

He'd promised me once. The bedroom was our little world, just the two of us. He would never let anyone else set foot inside.

Now Eleanor was the exception.

When I confronted him about it afterward, he waved it off. "Ellie isn't an outsider. She's like a sister to me. That's all."

In that moment, it was as if I'd never known him at all. So he could play these hollow word games with me too.

When it came to matters of the heart, I'd always been too easily swayed. A few soft words from Paul and I let it go.

It wasn't until after that night that I found out what Eleanor had done in our bedroom: she'd punctured every single condom we had.