After His Mistress Pushed Me Downstairs I Divorced Him

The day I left the hospital, I unexpectedly saw Grant with a woman at a prenatal clinic. Seeing him support her with a smile felt like a stab to my heart. When he turned to look at me, surprise flickered across his face. We acted like “strangers” in front of the woman, exchanging polite words. Following my divorce from Grant, he lost it when he saw me in the arms of another man on the street.

After spending a few days recovering in the hospital, today I was finally getting discharged. I'd arranged for a decent outfit to be brought to me, hoping to leave behind the air of illness. Carrying a small bag of personal belongings, I walked out of the hospital ward.

"Grant!"

Something like a sixth sense made me turn towards the voice. Not far off stood a couple, the woman’s arm linked with the man’s, his hand resting gently on her belly, cherishing the new life within. The sight hit me hard, and I froze.

That's when Grant noticed me. When our eyes locked, his body tensed. The woman followed his gaze to me, then turned back to him with a smile and asked, "Do you know her?"

Grant nodded, "Yes, we went to high school together."

"Should we go say hi?"

They walked towards me, their closeness making me feel out of place.

"It's been a while," I said, aware of my awkwardness and my usual pallor. Grant didn’t pry, sticking to small talk.

"How’ve you been?"

"Okay."

As I glanced at the woman’s belly, I forced a smile. "I’ve got to run. Take care and all the best."

With that, I left quickly. Even though the doctor advised against running, preferring moderate activity, I couldn’t watch Grant share an intimacy I’d never experienced.

I knew her—Harlow, the girl Grant had admired since high school, now pregnant. Clutching my own belly, I found a bench in a nearby park.

Just ten days ago, I was shopping when the elevator broke down, forcing me to take the stairs. As I descended from the fourth floor, someone pushed me from behind. I lost my footing and fell.

I hit my head and felt dazed, unable to figure out who shoved me, too weak to open my eyes.

When I came to, the doctor told me I’d lost the baby, over a month along without me knowing. There was no one to care for me, and I didn't even know whom to call.

Grant was out of the question. He was always distant, our only contact at night when he insisted on holding me as he slept. He was away on business, probably not concerned with my whereabouts. I soldiered on alone, surviving these ten days.

I eventually gathered myself, slowly heading toward the hospital exit, and arranged a ride home.

When I finally returned to that lonely home, Grant wasn’t back yet. He was likely still with Harlow. As usual, when I came home, nobody was there to welcome me. Yet when Grant arrived, a team of servants would appear to cater to him.

Exhausted, I prepared to go upstairs for a shower and some sleep.

But, stepping out of the bath, I bumped into Grant coming up the stairs. I instinctively stepped back, wary of annoying him.

“What were you doing at the hospital today?” Grant asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

He never asked such things, and I hesitated. His slight smile reminded me of how tenderly he’d treated Harlow.

"I was picking up medication for my father," I lied.

Grant seemed placated, his eyes softened, and I headed to bed. As I was falling asleep, he wrapped his arm around me, holding me close.

“You've lost weight. Have you been eating right?” he murmured near my ear.

I nodded silently, keeping my eyes shut.

“Take care of yourself,” he whispered, “Your parents wouldn’t understand otherwise.”