Stella Smith, my husband's sister, eight months deep into her pregnancy, faced the threat of a premature birth.

My husband, Michael Smith, in a rush of panic, whisked her away to the hospital in the dead of night.

Yet, amidst the chaos, a call interrupted his journey. With a hurried promise of return, he left, leaving me to scramble for a taxi to rush Stella to the hospital.

Unexpectedly, her labor turned perilous, each contraction a battle cry against her weakening body.

In this moment of crisis, Michael, known far and wide as the "God of Obstetrics," was the only one who could possibly save her.

I kept calling Michael.

When the call finally connected, an unexpected voice cut through the line. "Michael is helping Mia deliver the baby, so what can I do for you?"

The voice belonged to Michael's first love, Tina Hunter, and Mia was the dog they had once raised together.

Time was a thief, stealing moments I couldn't spare. "Stella is having a difficult labor. Please ask Michael to come to the hospital," I pleaded.

Despite my desperation, Michael coldly answered, "Psycho."

The line went dead, and no matter how many times I tried, silence was my only response.

It wasn't until the devastating news of Stella's death that my heart shattered into a million pieces. In the aftermath, I sent him a message, a plea for a divorce.

After what felt like an eternity, his reply arrived. [I couldn't agree more.]

As Michael left us, I watched helplessly as Stella's face paled with each passing moment. I rushed her to the hospital once more.

Outside the delivery room, her agonized cries pierced the air. Each scream was a dagger to my soul.

The doctor emerged. His hands were stained with blood as he asked with urgency and shame, "Isn't Mr. Smith here yet? His sister has suddenly developed eclampsia and is in danger of death. Can you ask him to come to the hospital as soon as possible?"

My world shattered at his words.

I remembered the tragic fate of Michael's mother, who had succumbed to eclampsia while giving birth to Stella.

It was this very tragedy that fueled Michael's resolve to become an obstetrician.

He had been dedicating his life to conquering the beast that was eclampsia.

Eclampsia was a deadly childbirth complication, and its mortality rate was extremely high.

Under his skilled hands, the survival rate soared to an incredible ninety-nine percent.

He saved countless lives, earning him the revered title of "The God of Obstetrics."

Yet, no one expected Stella to face the same peril during her delivery.

My heart raced with anxiety.

With hands that shook, I dialed Michael's number again and again.

Finally, the line was connected.

"Michael!" I cried into the phone, panic lacing my voice. "Stella has eclampsia, and the delivery is in crisis. You must come to the hospital now!"

However, it was not his voice that answered.

Tina's soft and tearful voice pierced the air. "Lilia, even if you don't like me, you don't have to make up such a lame excuse. Mia is giving birth to her babies. Call me back later."

The call ended, leaving me in a daze.

I once met with Mia, a yellow Corgi.

The realization hit me like a wave. Michael had chosen to attend to Tina's dog's delivery over his own sister's.

Anger boiled within me.

But the desperate cries from the delivery room reminded me of the urgency of the situation. Summoning patience, I called Michael again. "Tina, no matter what grudge we have, human lives are at stake now. You'd better let Michael answer the phone quickly," I implored.

But Tina remained silent.

The phone was seemingly abandoned, so my pleas fell on deaf ears.

Finally, Michael was free to take the call.

His gentle inquiry about the caller was met with Tina's recount of my words.

Her voice was laced with aggrieved murmurs, "Michael, do you think she wants to harm Mia? Even if she doesn't like me, Mia is my dog! How could she do this..."

Hope flickered within me.

But Michael's cold retort extinguished my hope. "Tina, you are right. She is a psychopath."

My heart plummeted, akin to a heavy stone sinking into the depths of despair.

The phone, a lifeline to salvation, remained obstinately silent. Michael turned off his phone.

Anxiety clawed at my insides.

I recalled the first time I had stumbled upon their secret affair.

I trailed them secretly.

Michael had confronted me with sharp words.

"I was merely assisting Tina with her move. Why must you be so petty?"

Therefore, I was armed with Tina's address.

I turned to the doctor. "Tell Stella to hold on. I will find Michael now."

Outside the community, I pleaded my case to the security guard, who granted me passage after a cursory registration.

Standing before Tina's door, I knocked on the door loudly.

The door swung open, and Tina's face, once welcoming, now frosted over at the sight of me.

"Where is Michael?" I demanded with urgency.

"There are two babies in Mia's belly. Michael is delivering them. What are you doing here?"

Her words were a shield, barring my entry.

Time was a luxury I could not afford. I called out Michael's name.

In my haste, I pushed past her.

She stumbled on purpose, her knees striking the ground.

She clutched at her knees and cried, "I know you were mad at me for calling Michael, but I had no choice. Mia couldn't give birth to her babies, and only Michael could save it. That's several lives! How could you do that to me?"

Michael was engaging in delivering.

His attention was drawn by the commotion, and he left the doghouse.

He helped Tina to her feet with concern and yelled at me, "Lilia Blake, are you done yet? Stella likes you so much, but you cursed her just to trick me away."

His words were a knife to my heart, but I brushed aside his accusations as I pulled him towards the door. "There is no time. Stella is dying, so you should come with me."

But Michael was indifferent to my panic.

He shook off my grasp with a force that sent me reeling.

His sneer cut deep. "Stop your lies. What can't a person like you do?"

I felt as though I were plunging into an icy abyss, the chill seeping into my very bones.

Reflecting on our marriage, I remembered a time when Michael and I shared happiness at the beginning.

Michael had once praised me. "You are gentle, considerate, independent, and capable. It's comfortable to live with you."

We had our share of joyous moments, and in those early days, he confided in me, sharing everything that weighed on his heart.

He had confided in me the tragic tale of his mother, her life claimed by eclampsia as she birthed Stella.

Her last words were a haunting plea. "Michael, you are a man and must take good care of your sister."

These memories would draw tears from him, tears of guilt for failing to protect Stella and causing her the unbearable pain of losing her husband, Bob Morgan.

Stella had just discovered her pregnancy then.

Michael was overjoyed, insisting on taking Bob for a winter swim to celebrate.

Tragedy struck when Michael's leg cramped during the swim, and it was Bob who saved him.

Bob expended his final ounce of strength to push Michael to safety before being swept away by the unforgiving waves.

Bob's last words were a plea for Michael to look after Stella.

Michael made the promise with tear-filled eyes.

Before Tina entered our lives, Michael valued Stella more than his own life.

He meticulously attended to almost every examination during her pregnancy, not merely out of fraternal duty but also to honor the life debt he owed to Bob.

In those days, I would hold him, offering comfort and sharing the burden of his grief.

Stella was a paragon of sensibility. Although she lived with us, her diligence was evident in her daily chores and the delicious meals she prepared.

We spoke of caring for her, yet it was often she who tended to our needs.

Her life, marked by the absence of a mother and the tragic loss of her husband at a young age, was a source of constant sorrow.

Therefore, I had embraced Stella as my own kin.

But our happy life ended when Tina, Michael's first love, returned.

In a matter of months, Michael seemed ensnared by a spell.

With the ease of a manipulator, Tina employed underhanded tactics to transform me, once a gentle and considerate wife, into a vicious and wicked woman in Michael's eyes.

Initially, I attributed his waning interest in me to work pressures.

But a creeping sense of unease took root because I witnessed him frequently in the company of another woman.

Driven by a mix of suspicion and desperation, I surreptitiously installed a location service on his phone.

Unable to bear his betrayal, I confronted him and Tina at her residence.

The confrontation ended with Michael's fury directed at me.

He demanded to know why I had become so controlling and why I couldn't emulate Tina's magnanimity.

I laughed bitterly, reminding him that I was his wife, not some stranger. His constant dalliances with his mistress hardly warranted magnanimity from me.

Enraged, he shattered his phone, declaring that I had no right to infringe upon his freedom.

Seeing no change in his stance, I raised my voice, accusing him, "Michael, are you forsaking Stella's life due to your prejudice against me? Did you forget the promises made to your mother and Bob?"

But my accusations were met with a cold, indifferent glance and a dismissive, "Are you done?"

"Do you think your lies are brilliant?" Michael retorted. "I examined Stella before sending her to the hospital. She couldn't possibly be in a difficult labor. Or do you doubt my medical expertise? Lilia, this is my last warning. Stella is my sister. No one knows her condition better than I do. I will handle her care. If you dare to curse her again, be prepared for the consequences."

"What?"

I looked at him blankly.

Before I could respond, Tina's sobs filled the air once more.

"Michael, come quickly. The last puppy's head seems stuck. Is Mia going to die?"

At her words, he rushed to her side, offering reassurances. "Don't worry. Mia will be fine."

It dawned on me then that no amount of begging would sway him.

Either he refused to believe me, or his arrogance blinded him to the possibility of error.

A profound sense of helplessness washed over me.

Just as I was about to resume my pleas, my phone rang.

The obstetrician stated with urgency, "Mrs. Smith, why hasn't Mr. Smith arrived yet? Stella can't hold on any longer. Both she and the baby are gone. Please, come and see her for the last time."

Tears welled up in my eyes, a torrent of emotions unleashed by Michael's icy indifference.

I felt even more sorry for Stella, whose life was a tapestry of misery. I was powerless to save her.

Realizing that Michael would not accompany me, I rushed to the hospital alone.

Tina's mocking voice reached into my ears, "I told you she was a liar, and she left when she saw that she couldn't deceive you."

"Leave her alone."

"Michael, look at our precious puppies. They are adorable. We are going to be grandparents!"

...

Arriving at the hospital, I found Stella's face ashen. She was frail and lifeless.

When she saw me, she attempted to lift her head, searching behind me for someone who wasn't there.

"I'm sorry, Stella."

I choked with guilt.

Tears traced paths down her cheeks as she responded, "Lilia, it's okay. I know you really care about me. It's my brother who is sorry for you."

I held her hand, sorrow mingling with her understanding and the hardships she had endured.

With a weak smile, she asked, "Lilia, I want to say something to my brother. Can you record it for me?"

With tears in my eyes, I pressed the recording button. "Stella, your brother is not here. If you have anything to say to him, I will definitely tell him."

She nodded at me. "Michael, when Bob died, I didn't want to live anymore. But I thought he died to save you, so I always felt I owed him. When he knew I was pregnant, he was so happy. I just wanted to keep his bloodline.

"You are my brother. I have never hated you. I just think I have a terrible fate. But why don't you save my child?

"Michael, after I die, don't touch me and my baby. Lilia should take care of my funeral. I don't want to see you again.

"You are blind and unworthy of Lilia. If you divorce, please don't bully her. You owe me two lives, so I ask you to return this favor to Lilia."

Her words trailed off when she asked me to turn off the recording.

Her eyes were fixed on the silent baby beside her.

With great effort, she took my hand and whispered, "Lilia, I'm sorry to trouble you again."

Then, her breath ceased.

I picked up the baby, whose tiny body was marred by bruises.

I placed her next to Stella.

As the doctors covered them with white cloth and wheeled them into the morgue, I wept uncontrollably.

The child was the daughter Bob and Stella had longed for and had been born weighing more than three kilograms.

If not for Michael's absence, Stella and her daughter could have lived healthy lives.

My chest felt constricted, a wet cotton ball of grief suffocating me.

I had given up on Michael, yet it was he who had first betrayed my trust.

I remembered our first meeting in the hospital.

At that time, my colleague, Jennifer Whitman, was pregnant.

But her boyfriend offered her two thousand dollars and abandoned her after knowing about her pregnancy.

Jennifer was my friend. Desperately, she had asked me to accompany her for an abortion.

It was Michael who had attended to us then.

He exuded an air of neatness, and his speech was refined and gentlemanly. Besides, his attentiveness to his work was impeccable.

My first impression of him was favorable.

When I witnessed him bowing reverently to the tiny embryo, I sensed an even deeper reverence for life within him.

Later, Jennifer wished to treat him to a meal to express her gratitude. His gaze softly landed on me.

Sensing my shyness, he smiled and said to me, "It's my honor."

Those words resonated deeply within me.

As I got to know him better, I found him to be even more exceptional than I had initially thought.

After he professed his feelings for me, our relationship progressed smoothly.

Yet, I had never dared to accept his proposal, feeling that he was perhaps a bit too rational in his dealings with me.

That perception shifted when I accidentally broke my leg.

Despite being a doctor, he wept like a child.

Whenever he noticed any discomfort in me, he would rush out, shouting, "Doctor! Doctor!"

This behavior led to many humorous moments.

His eyes would often redden secretly when I was in pain.

He blamed himself for not being able to protect me.

It was then that I was certain of his love, and we eventually married.

Post-marriage, he remained rational and composed, yet he also shared everything with me openly and trustingly.

The shift in our dynamic, I believe, began with Tina's return.

It was then that I realized he harbored feelings for his first love.

I watched as they grew closer and as he performed absurd acts for Tina.

He even left Stella, the person he cared about the most, to my care.

He was gradually moving away from me, step by step, leaving me utterly anxious.

In my desperation to regain his attention, I became hysterical, only to be met with increased disdain from him.

He was blind to Tina's manipulations and oblivious to my grievances.

His refrain became a constant echo. "Lilia, are you done? Lilia, have you had enough? Lilia, you really disappoint me."

Ultimately, I gave up and sought a divorce.

However, out of pity for Stella, I decided to wait until she had given birth.

I never anticipated that Stella would die.

After all, Michael was Stella's brother.

Although Stella had expressed much blame towards him before her death, this girl, with her tough exterior but soft heart, deserved better.

I decided to call Michael anyway.

Perhaps the puppies had been born, so Michael answered the phone swiftly this time. His first question was, "Did Stella give birth?"

I responded with a sneer, "Michael, let's get divorced."

Remembering Stella, I added, "Stella and the child are gone. If you still have a conscience, come to the hospital to see them for the last time."