The Day My Husband Killed My Baby, I was Done

One second, I was smiling, my hands resting on my stomach, excited for my check-up. The next, there was screeching metal, blinding lights, the violent jolt of my body being thrown forward. And then pain.

I woke up to the sterile scent of antiseptic. A dull beeping sound echoed in the room. My body ached, but it was a distant kind of pain, like I wasn’t fully inside myself. I tried to move, but my limbs were heavy, useless.

I was numb. Then I heard voices. A hushed conversation.

It was familiar. I forced my eyes open just enough to see the outline of two men at the far end of the room.

Elijah. My husband. And the doctor.

I was about to call for help when I heard what my husband said next, shattering my heart.

“You need to resign after you perform the removal of her uterus,” Elijah said, his voice sharp, decisive. “No one can know. Especially Victoria. She can never know that I let our unborn child die.”

The air was sucked from my lungs. Our unborn child… died? My baby… no! That can’t be. For five years of being married to Elijah, I had worked on my pregnancy, and then in a glimpse… the baby was gone.

The doctor hesitated. “Are you really sure about this? If we remove her uterus, she won’t be able to bear children again—”

“I don’t care,” Elijah cut him off. “I just found out I have a daughter with Beatrice.”

Beatrice. The name rang through my skull like a gunshot. His first love. The woman who left him for another man, and now they have a child together?

Elijah continued, his voice void of emotion. “Beatrice doesn’t want any competition for her child. And the only reason I kept Victoria around for so long was because I pitied her. She was convenient. That’s all.”

The doctor was silent.

Elijah exhaled. “So I’ll make her useless. After all, she won’t leave me.”

A sharp pain bloomed in my chest, different from the physical pain that gripped my body. I wanted to scream. To cry. To claw my way out of the bed and rip him apart. But the anesthesia was still in my veins, and the world was slipping again.

When I opened my eyes next, there was light. Bright, blinding light.

The operating room. I tried to move, to fight, to do anything—but my body refused to listen.

So I did the only thing I could. I prayed. Prayed that someone would stop them.

That someone would save me. But no one did.

When I woke up again, the world was dull, muted. The pain was worse now, a deep ache in my lower abdomen.

Tears welled in my eyes before I even registered why. Then I saw him.

Elijah sat beside my bed, his expression carefully constructed, like a man delivering bad news to a stranger.

“Victoria,” he said softly. “There were complications from the accident.”

My fingers curled into the sheets.

“The baby didn’t survive.”

I felt like I was drowning. He reached for my hand, but I didn’t move.

“And… due to the severity of your injuries, the doctors had to remove your uterus.”

My breath hitched. I let the tears fall. Let my body tremble as the sobs racked through me.

Because I knew better. I knew the truth. But I couldn’t let him know that I knew.

So I played my part. I cried and cried, over and over again, like a grieving wife who had lost everything.

Elijah sighed, rubbing slow circles on my palm. “I know this is hard.” His voice was too even, too measured. “But we can still have a family.”

I stilled. He smiled, as if this was a conversation about what to eat for dinner.

“I’ve already found the perfect child to adopt.”

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. Adopt? He wanted to adopt… immediately. He didn’t even want me to grieve my unborn child? But of course, I didn’t argue. I let him believe that I was still her useless wife, the one who could never stand on her feet to leave him.

“Wouldn’t that be wonderful, Victoria?” he asked. “We can move on. Start fresh.”

I lifted my head slowly, meeting his gaze.

And then, through my tears, I smiled.

“Of course,” I whispered.

But in my mind, I was already planning how to destroy him.