I was six months pregnant when my husband, Michael Greene, shoved me off the edge of a yacht during a birthday party.

Why? Because Lily Clement, his childhood sweetheart, had fallen into the water, and apparently, the yacht was too small for all three of us.

After being pulled from the ocean, suffering from hypothermia and shock, I was taken to the hospital. Doctors determined that emergency surgery was necessary and required a family member's consent.

However, no matter how many times they called, Michael never picked up.

At the same time, lying in a hospital bed, I scrolled through Lily’s Instagram and saw the post she shared just hours earlier. It was a photo of the two of them, soaked but clinging to each other like lovers out of a movie.

"Sometimes love comes from the most unexpected places. Thank you for always being there for me—quietly, selflessly, unshakably."

That was all I needed.

The day I was discharged, I left Michael a signed divorce agreement.

If he wanted to be her knight in shining armor, I’d let him.

After the seventh call went unanswered and finally disconnected, I looked at the doctor calmly and said, "I’ll sign the consent myself. I’m not keeping the baby."

The words had barely left my mouth before the doctor hesitated.

"Are you sure, ma’am? It wasn't easy for you to conceive. Even if you don’t want to continue, shouldn’t you at least talk it over with your husband first?"

"Oh? Can you reach him right now?" I asked. "Or should I just keep bleeding out while we wait for him to call back?"

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

Speechless, the doctor stumbled over their words, unsure how to respond.

I already knew where Michael was—comforting Lily Clement after she fell into the water. Of course, he wasn’t thinking about me. If he had, he wouldn’t have pushed me off the yacht in the first place.

I remembered the photo of them huddled together on her Instagram, the picture looking so intimate it almost made me, his actual wife, feel jealous.

"Just do what I said," I told the doctor. "Besides, a child born without love is only brought into the world to suffer."

That was what I said.

However, when they wheeled me into the operating room, I felt it. Piece by piece, the life inside me slipped away. My stomach flattened, and my body was hollowed out. The hatred I had for Michael reached its peak.

I used to imagine our future together, countless times. A happy marriage. One or two kids. A boy like him, a girl like me. He’d teach our son to protect his mom and little sister while I’d teach our daughter how to be Daddy’s little girl.

Sadly, reality was as cold and sharp as a scalpel. I couldn’t even hold onto one child.

Deep down, I’d always known Michael never loved me.

The day we got married was the same day Lily returned to the country. The ever-punctual Michael showed up late at our wedding.

The host on stage kept urging him to appear, but he never did.

I happened to walk past a private room at the hotel… and heard his voice. And hers.

"Michael, you promised you'd wait for me. Why did you break that promise and marry her?"

"Lily, I’m sorry."

"But you love me, not her!"

"I know… but I didn’t have a choice."

I buried those words deep inside me. Even after realizing he didn’t love me, I loved him harder.

When his company was struggling, I begged my family for money to help. He suffered constant stomach issues from stress, so I studied holistic medicine to prepare him healing meals.

Then, several months ago, I found out I was pregnant.

Michael dropped a multi-million dollar contract and flew back overnight. He showed up at our door with dark circles under his eyes and a handful of my favorite camellias.

In that moment, I thought that maybe everything I had done, all the years I gave him, had finally paid off. I thought I’d finally warmed his heart.

"The surgery went well. Take her to recovery and monitor her closely," I heard the doctor say.

As the anesthesia wore off, pain surged through the wound in my lower abdomen, dragging me back to reality.

He didn't really care. He just showed me the version of him I wanted to see.

Michael finally called me back the next day.

I was at the hospital, getting checked out with the help of a nurse. Once the exam was done, I could go home and rest.

"Emily, where are you? Why aren’t you home?"

I let out a soft laugh. So, he finally remembered I existed.

"What’s so funny? Why didn’t you make breakfast this morning?"

Right. I’d made breakfast for him every morning for years. Because of his sensitive stomach and the fact that he thought outside food was unhygienic, I’d always gotten up early to cook for him.

"Michael, I’m at the hospital."

There was a pause on the other end.

Then, faintly, I heard Lily’s delicate voice. "Michael, is your wife mad because of yesterday? Maybe she’s just pretending she’s in the hospital to punish you. It’s my fault. I don’t even know how to steer a yacht. If it hadn’t capsized, your wife wouldn’t have fallen into the ocean…"

Michael rushed to comfort her. "Don’t say that, sweetheart. With her strong body? No way she’d end up in a hospital. She loves the water. Swims in the pool every week. A little seawater? She probably wishes she could do laps in it."

I stopped listening after that. I didn’t need to hear more.

Inside, I was already shattered beyond repair.

Yes, before I got pregnant, I did love swimming. But now? In the middle of winter in sub-zero ocean water? He thought I wanted to swim laps in it?

Had he forgotten I was six months pregnant?

Since I found out I was expecting, I hadn’t even touched the pool. I barely left the bed, terrified of losing this hard-won child.

Michael had to insist that I attend Lily's birthday party yesterday; otherwise, I wouldn't have gone.

It was her 26th birthday, and she had insisted on some kind of yacht race. Michael and I were paired on one yacht while she was alone on another.

Right when everything had to go smoothly, it didn’t. Her yacht flipped.

Michael had shoved me overboard to save her.

"Emily? What are you doing here?"

His familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Michael was standing there with Lily by his side, helping her stand in line for her check-up.

Meanwhile, I was across the room, picking up my test results.

I looked at him calmly. My husband was helping another woman get medical care while I was left alone to bleed. The absurdity of it all struck me.

"I already told you that I’m at the hospital."

A flicker of guilt and panic crossed his face. He rushed toward me, trying to peek at the paperwork in my hands, but I stepped away.

He coughed awkwardly. "Emily, are you okay?"

"It’s all my fault," he added quickly. "I acted on impulse yesterday. I just wanted to save Lily. I didn’t realize you fell into the water too. I looked for you as soon as I got back on the yacht, honestly. When I heard you were safe, that’s when I took Lily to the hospital."

I looked at him long and hard. If I hadn’t seen through him already, maybe I would’ve believed that speech.

Right on cue, Lily walked up, wiping away tears. "I’m sorry, Emily. It’s all my fault. Please don’t be mad at Michael. Just let him take you home. I can handle the rest of the check-up on my own."

Michael, who had clearly intended to take me home, now visibly hesitated.

And I understood. Of course, I did.

If this had been a few months ago, I’d have backed down. I always did.

And Lily knew it too. That was why she had the nerve to say something so sickeningly sweet and passive-aggressive.

But this time?

I ignored her completely and looked directly at Michael. "Well? Are you coming or not? Because if you’re not, I’ll just go myself."

As we walked away, I caught a glimpse of Lily’s reflection in the hospital’s glass door.

Gone was the delicate, tearful girl. Her face was cold, sharp. Calculating.

She was a completely different person.

The test results weren’t very serious, so I told Michael to drive us home from the hospital.

As the car traversed along the overpass, neither of us said a word. He was clearly worried about his precious childhood sweetheart. On the other hand, I was thinking about how to ask for a divorce.

Soon, his phone suddenly rang. The screen lit up with Lily’s name, flashing again and again.

He glanced at me instinctively. When he saw my expression hadn’t changed, he disconnected the Bluetooth and picked up the call.

Her voice came through loud and clear. I could hear her crying on the other end.

"Michael... I’m scared..."

The car jolted to a sudden stop, tires screeching across the road for several yards.

Bang! My head slammed into the window, but Michael didn’t even check on me.

"Lily, don’t panic. Just tell me what’s wrong!"

"I didn’t catch what the doctor said. He told me to get a blood test, but I’m scared," she sobbed louder. "I’m all alone. I don’t want to do it by myself... Can’t you come? Please? I’m really scared..."

Michael went silent then, but I could feel his eyes on me.

I rubbed the side of my head, which was already red from the impact. "If I told you not to go, would you actually stay?"

He hesitated for a split second. Then, he gave me his answer, "I’m sorry, Emily. She’s just a girl alone in the hospital. I really can’t leave her like that."

I gave him a flat, bitter smile.

So leaving me, a patient, alone on an overpass? That was fine.

So he could just run off guilt-free to be with his little sweetheart?

"You can go," I said. "But leave the car. I’ll drive myself back."

He froze. He knew I couldn’t drive and that I was terrified of it.

Back when I was still taking lessons, I’d been in a car accident—a pileup right on an overpass just like this one. My training car had been crushed in the middle, and I’d nearly died. Since then, I hadn’t touched a steering wheel.

Michael knew that. Nevertheless, without hesitation, he opened the door and got out.

"Emily, don’t be difficult. I’ll be back soon!"

At some point, it had started to rain. He left me there alone on the overpass, then ran off into the storm, disappearing into the blur of traffic.

I sat by myself in the car, wearing a twisted smile.

"Michael, we’re really done this time."

I pulled out my phone and called for a driver.

After I got dropped off at home, there was still no sign of him. No texts. No calls. It wasn’t until I’d packed my things, folded my clothes, and sorted the drawers that he finally called.

Even through the phone, I could hear his voice dripping with guilt.

"Emily, I’m sorry. Lily’s just not doing well right now. She's probably traumatized from yesterday. I need to stay with her today."

I didn’t say a word.

His voice softened, trying to soothe me. "Don’t worry, Emily. I promise I’ll be home tomorrow."

When I hung up, I sat still for a long moment.

The house was cold, silent, and empty.

Somehow, tears had already formed at the corners of my eyes.

I grabbed my phone and made a call.

"Mom... I want to come home."