THE WIFE HE REGRETTED LOSING

Rain slammed against the hospital windows, loud and angry, making Lola Hart's hands shake as she gripped her divorce papers.

It just wouldn't let up. The sky felt furious-almost grieving.

Out in the hallway by Room 312, everything smelled like antiseptic and hopelessness. The fluorescent lights hummed above, throwing pale reflections on spotless floors. Down the hall, a nurse pushed a cart that seemed to rattle forever.

Lola barely noticed any of it.

Her gaze was stuck on a thin crack in the hospital room door.

Inside, her husband was feeding soup to another woman.

And that woman was clearly pregnant.

Lola stood rooted, frozen in the doorway, her brain fighting the words the whole scene screamed at her.

Daniel Carter sat next to the hospital bed, leaning forward to offer the woman a spoonful of soup. His jacket-designer, no question-hung over a chair, sleeves folded the way he always did, the whole thing neat and tidy. Just like him.

He looked calm. Unruffled. Kind, even.

This same man hadn't answered a single call all morning.

He wasn't there when Lola got rushed into the ER.

He wasn't there when the doctor whispered that their baby was gone.

Her grip on the papers tightened.

Inside, Daniel's voice was low and gentle.

"Careful. It's still hot."

The woman in the bed smiled-one of those intimate smiles you save for someone who means everything.

Lola's chest ached.

The woman really was beautiful. Long black hair sprawled across the pillow like spilled ink. Delicate skin, all soft and glowing beneath the hospital lights.

But her stomach was what stopped Lola cold.

Rounded. Obvious. Pregnant.

The woman's hand landed on it, almost without thinking.

Then she spoke.

"Honey," she said, sweet as sugar.

That single word echoed through Lola's skull like a gunshot.

Honey.

Daniel's whole face softened-Lola hadn't seen him look like that in months.

"Yes?" he said.

"Thank you for staying with me all night." Her voice was gentle. "You should get some rest too."

All night.

The words crashed straight into Lola.

All night. While she lay alone in the ER, crying, begging doctors to save a life that wouldn't be saved, Daniel was here.

With someone else.

Everything felt smaller, the hallway closing in. The air gone.

Lola pushed the door open. The hinges creaked, sharp and jarring.

Daniel looked up, eyes wide for one short second.

"Lola?"

The pregnant woman turned to look at her, slow and intentional. She took her in: hospital gown hanging off Lola's frame, skin pale, exhaustion written all over her.

And the woman smiled. Not awkward or worried-just sure of herself.

Lola's stomach knotted.

She looked at Daniel. Her husband. The man who'd promised her forever, three years ago.

"Daniel," she managed, her voice small, thin, more ghost than person.

Daniel stood, walked to her slowly-but there was nothing soft in his face.

No guilt. No apology. Just the faintest bit of annoyance.

"Why are you out of bed?" He sounded bored. Flat.

Lola blinked, stunned by how little he seemed to care.

Why was she out of bed? Because her child was dead. Because she'd woken up to emptiness. Because the man she trusted had disappeared.

Her eyes went to the woman.

"Who is she?"

The question just hung there.

Daniel followed her gaze. The pregnant woman watched with open, bored curiosity.

Daniel sighed.

Actually sighed, as if she was being difficult, as if this conversation just topped off his list of things he didn't want to do.

"This is Vanessa."

The name stung in Lola's mouth.

"And?" Lola's voice was soft.

Daniel paused for barely a second.

"She's pregnant with my child."

Everything inside Lola went silent. Ears ringing, heart thunderstruck.

Pregnant. His child.

She stared down at her divorce papers, hands shaking.

The whole timeline in her head rearranged itself. The late nights, the business trips, the perfume on his shirt he'd dismissed, the creeping coldness at home. All of it made sense now.

Her mouth was dry. Something burned in her throat.

"Daniel," she whispered, her voice coming apart, "I lost the baby this morning."

The words cracked the air.

Daniel didn't even flinch.

"I was alone in the ER," Lola pushed on, barely holding it together. "I was bleeding. I was terrified. Where were you?"

Daniel didn't miss a beat.

"I was where I was needed."

His answer was pure ice. It slammed into her.

A laugh slipped out-half-crazy.

"Where you were needed?"

Her voice was louder now. Angry, horrified.

"I just lost our child, Daniel!" Her hand pressed into her belly, shaking. "I pushed our dead baby out of my body this morning! And you were here-feeding soup to your mistress?"

Silence. Awkward and heavy.

Vanessa shifted, hand over her stomach.

Then, calmly-almost sweet-she said, "Daniel?"

He turned fast. "Yes?"

"I think she's upsetting the baby."

Lola stared at her. The woman's fake concern was nearly breathtaking.

"I'm sorry about your loss," Vanessa said, all polite. "But you really shouldn't stress yourself right now. My doctor says stress is bad for the baby."

The hospital room tilted in Lola's vision.

Daniel's jaw clenched. "Don't raise your voice," he hissed. "You were always too dramatic, Lola."

It landed like a slap.

Dramatic. After everything.

Lola stared at him. "Dramatic?" Her voice was a rasp.

He picked up the soup bowl, set it aside with a hard clink.

"This is why this marriage isn't working," he said, voice cold and sharp. "You're unstable."

Three years. Three years of loving him. Faithful. Just tossed out like nothing.

Daniel walked over to the table, grabbed a folder, turned back. Divorce papers. She knew them; she'd been holding identical ones out in the hallway.

He came closer, rain thrashing louder outside.

He took her papers, smoothed them out, pushed them back into her hands.

His voice was level, final. "Sign it."

And as the storm howled outside, Lola realized her life, as she'd known it, was finished.