The pictures Milana sent became progressively more intimate. One particularly blurry photo seemed to be from a long time ago. In it, Milana had just stepped off a plane, holding a bouquet of flowers while leaning affectionately against Gabriel, who had an arm around her. His face was beaming with joy. The date in the bottom right corner showed it was taken four years ago today.

A nerve twitched in my brain as I zoomed in on the photo. Gabriel had once told me that during that period, he was going through immense suffering, feeling as if life wasn’t worth living. It had all been a fabrication. Suddenly, I couldn’t stand to see Gabriel's face.

I sent Milana a message: "Try not to wet your pants in fear." Then I tossed my phone aside. I couldn’t sleep all night.

The next morning, I resolved to get a divorce. Seeing my lonely and pitiful state, the nurse, Reya, kindly offered to help me print out the divorce papers. Just then, Gabriel called. He wanted to know why I hadn’t come home the night before.

"Are you blowing things out of proportion again? You end up in the hospital over the smallest issue," he said dismissively.

Clearing my throat, I stated, "I want a divorce."

"Divorce?" Gabriel echoed, surprised. After a brief pause, he replied in a slightly annoyed tone, "I'll come to the hospital after I'm done with work. Stop using this as a threat."

But by evening, Gabriel still hadn’t shown up at the hospital. Milana continued posting updates on social media, showing them cruising along the coastal highway in a convertible. She was mocking a knitted decoration in the car, throwing it out the window with disdain. Gabriel didn’t stop her. He probably forgot that he and I had once cherished that same ornament, after sincerely praying with it at a chapel.

Dr. Avery Evans informed me that my health condition was not looking good and that I might need another procedure. "The procedure carries the risk of heavy bleeding. You need to list an emergency contact."

I had left my hometown to start a life with Gabriel here in New Haven. Legally, he was my only family. But I no longer wanted any ties with him.

Dr. Evans seemed to read my thoughts. "Having a disagreement, huh? I’ll call him for you."

The nurse, Reya, quickly took my phone and read out Gabriel's number. "Mr. Richards? Your wife needs to undergo surgery tomorrow and requires family present."

Gabriel paused for a moment, then responded in a tone of mocking indifference: "Tell Natasha not to waste her energy. I hate melodrama."

"What melodrama? She had a miscarriage—" Dr. Evans tried to explain, but Gabriel hung up before she could finish.

I shook my head with a bitter smile and signed the consent form, putting everything in the doctor's hands.

I felt like I had slept for ages. In the blurry space between dreams and waking, memories of my past came flooding back. I wasn’t always afraid of the dark or tight spaces. Gabriel knew this more than anyone. He used to hold my hand securely as we strolled through dimly lit streets. But after Milana returned from abroad, he began leaving me alone at home, night after night.

As the anesthesia faded, Gabriel walked in, with Milana trailing behind. She glanced at my belly first and then handed me a neatly wrapped gift box. "Natasha, are you doing alright? I know the pregnancy has been hard on you, with the swelling and everything," she said.

"So, I thought I'd give you this luxury skincare set. It's all-natural and completely safe." She leaned in deliberately, making sure I noticed her impeccably done makeup. "Even if Gabriel doesn’t mention it, he still wants you looking your best."

Since we started planning for the baby, I had stopped wearing makeup, and the hormone treatments had made me put on quite a bit of weight. I used to worry Gabriel might find me unattractive, but not anymore. I pushed the skincare products off the table and reached under my pillow for the divorce papers the nurse had printed for me.

"Natasha… if you don’t like it, just say so. Why make things difficult?" Milana leaned against Gabriel's shoulder, shedding tears. Gabriel, unable to handle my reaction, shouted, "Natasha Flores, what is this all about?"

Calmly, I handed him two copies of the agreement. "Sign them. It's a divorce."

I had always been the supportive wife, backing Gabriel's choices, trusting his decisions. When Milana wanted to work as his secretary, friends warned me. "Old flames and past connections, it’s not good for your marriage."

But Gabriel assured me he saw Milana as nothing more than a sister. Besides, her parents had been kind to him, and he couldn’t turn her down. So I relented, genuinely treating Milana like a sister and often inviting her over.

Gabriel had become used to my compliance, so when I brought up divorce again, he seemed confused. "We've finally started a family, why divorce now?"

A fleeting look of victory crossed Milana’s face, as if this was exactly what she had wanted all along. My dry lips curled into a cold smile. "A family?" I sneered.

"The baby is gone. Ask Milana what she’s done."