He Begged When I No Longer Care

I stood outside the glass doors of the police station, my hand trembling around the envelope with the pregnancy test results. I had planned a quiet dinner with my husband Jason tonight to surprise him.

But all those dreams shattered when I was called by the police to bail him out after he had been caught up in a hotel prostitution sting with my sister Leslie.

My eyes scanned the room until I found them—Jason and Leslie—sitting on a bench behind the glass divider.

Leslie's head was pressed against Jason's shoulder. His arm was wrapped protectively around her, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, revealing a smattering of hickeys across his neck. Leslie’s blouse was askew, and her hair looked like she had just stepped out of a wind tunnel. My stomach turned.

Leslie saw me first. Her lips curved into a smile that wasn’t the least bit apologetic. “Oh, sister, you’re here! What took you so long?”

Jason looked up, his eyes meeting mine for a fraction of a second before he stood, pulling Leslie with him. “You’re late,” he said, his tone sharp, as if I was the one in the wrong. “Leslie isn’t feeling well. We need to get her to a hospital, but the police won’t let us go until we’re bailed out.”

I stared at him. “Why are you even together in a hotel room?”

“That’s not what’s important right now,” Jason snapped. “Just pay the bail.”

I blinked, the reality of the situation clawing at my chest. Jason and Leslie. Together. Hickeys. Disheveled clothes. All I could ask was for how long? I didn’t even realize their betrayal until now.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could form the words, Jason reached into my purse and snatched my keys. “Go home alone. I need to bring her to the hospital.” He grabbed Leslie’s hand and led her out of the station, leaving me standing there, stunned.

“Jason!” I called after him, but he didn’t even look back.

The officer at the counter raised an eyebrow as I handed over the cash. “Was that your husband?” he asked.

“No,” I said flatly, my voice colder than I intended.

“Good,” the officer muttered, sliding my receipt across the counter. “Because the talk around here is that he and the woman he was caught with were… intimate when we busted them.”

The words slammed into me, but I refused to let the officer see me flinch. Instead, I nodded, grabbed my receipt, and walked out, my head high. Inside, I was burning.

The cool evening air hit me as I stepped outside, but it did nothing to quell the fire raging in my chest. Jason and Leslie were nowhere in sight, the taillights of my car disappearing down the street. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I stood on the curb, completely alone.

I flagged down a cab, sinking into the worn leather seat as I gave the driver an address. Not home. Not the station. The hospital.

The envelope still sat in my lap, the edges crumpled from my grip. I stared at it, the weight of its contents suddenly unbearable.

I pulled out my phone and called a number. The clinic receptionist answered after two rings. “Women’s Health Center. How can I assist you?”

I swallowed hard, the words tasting like ash. “I need to schedule an abortion,” I said as tears blurred my eyes.