My Husband's Lover Is the One Who Bullied Me

During my pregnancy, I was burning with a fever, my temperature spiking to 102.2°F. Yet my husband, Bernard Larson, told me he was going on a business trip.

I begged him to buy me some medicine, but he coldly hung up the phone.

"If you're sick, go see a doctor. I'm busy. If I don't make money, how are you and the baby going to live?"

In the dead of night, I opened Twitter and saw a post from someone who had once bullied me.

The post read: [Someone who cares about you will rush to see you, even across an entire city.]

The image attached was of a hand holding a paper bag of medicine.

And that hand was wearing the watch I had given Bernard as an anniversary gift.

I stared at the phone, now disconnected, and felt my heart sink.

I tried calling Bernard again, but his phone was turned off.

Struggling to get up, I found the thermometer in the drawer. After checking my temperature, I realized it had climbed to 103.2°F.

I forced myself to stay upright and rummaged through the medicine cabinet. But after reading the labels, I found that none of the medications were safe for a pregnant woman.

I gently touched my slightly swollen belly, and suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my back.

Hurriedly, I lay back down on the bed.

Bernard and I had been in love for three years, married for five. The baby in my belly was conceived through IVF after countless injections and doses of heparin, and now, at five months along, I was desperate to protect it.

I didn't dare fall asleep. I kept taking deep breaths and changing out the cooling patches. The room's temperature was set to 64°F, but my fever only seemed to rise.

To distract myself, I checked my social media again.

My hand trembled when I saw Annika Morris' post, causing my phone to slip from my grasp.

I quickly picked it up.

Annika's latest post read: [Someone who cares about you will rush to see you, even across an entire city.]

The attached photo was of a hand holding a paper bag of medicine.

And the watch on that hand was the one I had given Bernard as an anniversary gift.

Our initials were even engraved on the back of it.

So, he wasn't truly busy. He wasn't going on a business trip. He had flown to another city in the dead of night just to deliver medicine to the person who had once bullied me.

He knew all about the pain I had endured from that time, yet he still chose Annika without hesitation.

It felt like a knife had pierced through my heart, the pain so intense that I could hardly breathe.

Memories flooded back like a tidal wave, bringing with them all the dark moments of my past as if demons from those small, suffocating spaces were tearing at my soul.

Another sharp pain surged through my abdomen.

I pulled back the blanket and saw a warm fluid flowing down my thighs, staining the pristine white sheets with bright red.

Frantically, I dialed emergency services.

By the time I arrived at the hospital, I was curled into a ball, drenched in sweat.

"The baby no longer has a heartbeat."

The doctor's words left me frozen.

"You developed a high fever due to the flu, and the baby didn't make it. We need to perform a procedure now to avoid infection. Please notify your family."

"No, that's impossible. This afternoon, my baby was still moving. He was responding to me. I could feel his heartbeat. How could he be gone just like that?"

Tears streamed down my face as I lay on the hospital bed, muttering to myself. Then, in a desperate frenzy, I grabbed the doctor's arm.

"Please, I'm begging you, save my baby. He still has a heartbeat. I can feel it."

The doctor looked at me with pity and gently pried my hand away.

"Ma'am, I'm so sorry for your loss. There's no longer any sign of life."

As I watched the doctor walk away, a deep sense of helplessness and despair washed over me.

"The procedure requires a family member's signature. Mrs. Larson, when will your family arrive?"

The nurse stood nearby, holding the consent form.

I pulled out my phone and tried calling Bernard again.

Still, no one answered.