After I got pregnant, my husband started driving for Uber after work to help with household expenses. He wouldn't return home until the early hours of the morning.

Then, on Valentine's Day, I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my belly. I called an ambulance to take me to the hospital.

When I arrived, I saw my husband entangled with another woman. Both of them were being wheeled into the emergency room.

"Tsk, these two really have no shame, going at it right out in public," someone muttered.

"They probably wrecked the car in the process, don't you think?" another chimed in.

"What's even worse," a voice added with a hint of horror, "is that guy has a wife!"

The bystanders gasped in unison. "His wife must be devastated."

Whether his wife is devastated or not, I don't know.

But one thing is certain—he'll be going straight to hell for this!

Today was Valentine's Day, and I wanted my husband to take a day off.

"Stay home with me," I said.

"Valentine's Day is the best time to make money," he replied, turning away. As he stepped out the door, he casually reminded me, "Call me if anything happens."

I had planned to wait for him to come back, but at some point, I drifted off to sleep. When I woke, it wasn't to the sound of him returning—it was the pain that pulled me out of my daze. Cold sweat soaked my face as I gasped for air.

"Honey…" My voice trembled. "My stomach hurts. Can you turn on the light?"

No answer came. It hit me then—he was still out driving for Uber.

The pain grew sharper, and I couldn't bring myself to dwell on why he was still out so late. I fumbled for my phone, relying on instinct to dial for an ambulance. Then I lay flat on the bed, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to dull the agony in any way I could.

But the more it hurt, the sadder I felt. Other women had husbands who stayed by their side during pregnancy, attentive and caring. Yet here I was, pregnant, barely seeing mine.

He was too proud to accept help, even from my parents, who had raised me and would've gladly supported us. I couldn't change his mind, so I let him run himself ragged every day.

But as I lay there, clutching my stomach, I silently vowed that I wouldn't let him take these night shifts anymore. He needed to be with me at night—no exceptions.

Thankfully, our home wasn't far from the hospital, and the ambulance arrived quickly. I wanted to get up to meet them, but the pain pinned me down. The nurses had to lift me onto the stretcher and rush me toward the hospital.

Even in the middle of the night, the maternity ward was busy. Every expectant mother I saw had someone by her side—at least one person, if not an entire family, hovering over her with care.

"Where are your family members?" the doctor asked as he handed me a form. "Have them queue up for your tests. You can rest in the chair for now."

I took the form and forced a weak smile. "There's no need. I came alone. Just tell me where to queue."

The doctor hesitated, his expression faltering for a moment before he nodded. He called over a nurse and asked her to accompany me.

The nurse, noticing my pale face and the way I clutched my stomach, quickly fetched a wheelchair and helped me into it. She pushed me to the line, and as I waited, I pulled out my phone to call Ian.

I wanted to tell him to come to the hospital immediately. But the phone rang and rang—no one answered.

I frowned, tightening my grip on the phone. I wanted to try calling again, but it was already my turn to be seen.

After the tests, I couldn't stop thinking about those unanswered calls. I dialed his number again, and once more, no one picked up.

But this time, I heard a familiar ringtone nearby.

I turned my head, following the sound, and saw a group of nurses rushing a stretcher toward the emergency room. The ringtone was coming from the stretcher.

In that instant, my heart sank like a stone. Ignoring my own pain, I leapt to my feet and ran after them.

As I sprinted, worst-case scenarios flooded my mind, and tears welled up in my eyes.

I reached the stretcher, ready to call out his name, but the words froze on my lips when I saw the scene before me.

For the first time, I understood what it truly meant to feel chilled to the bone.

Ian lay there, in his birthday suits, clutching a woman tightly in his arms. The woman wore nothing but a flimsy, disheveled piece of lingerie.

"The emergency call was made by a kind passerby," someone murmured.

"Seriously? Must've been one hell of a ride if they passed out from sheer intensity," another voice chuckled.

"Did you see the marks on that woman? It seemed like they went really hard at it," someone else added, the tone dripping with mockery.

"But doing it in a car on the street? Have they no shame?"

The surrounding chatter pricked my ears like sharp needles, every word slicing through my chest. My legs trembled as I tried to stand upright, but my back felt as if a thousand-pound weight pressed down on it. My whole body shivered uncontrollably.

Ian…

How could he? Out there, with another woman?

And so recklessly that it landed them in a hospital?

The realization was like a blow to the gut. My breath hitched painfully, and I clung to the wall for support.

Why did I have to find out like this—while carrying his child?

Why did he have to betray me, especially today, of all days?

Valentine's Day.

Suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain gripped my belly. I bent over, barely able to stay on my feet, while the voices around me continued unabated.

"Word is, that guy's married," someone whispered.

"What? Seriously? Married and pulling stunts like this?"

"Bold, huh? I've seen his car shaking like crazy out there for the past week."

"A week? Try a month! And the women are always different. He's completely out of control."

There was a collective gasp from the crowd.

"That poor wife of his. She has no idea what kind of scumbag she's married to," someone said, pity evident in their tone.

"Yeah, apparently, he just drives home after each 'session,' tells his wife he's been working Uber shifts. How would she ever suspect anything?"

"She's really unlucky to have married a guy like that…"

The pain in my heart outweighed the agony in my body. My hands clenched into fists, and I shut my eyes tightly, willing myself not to break apart. But I couldn't stop the tears from welling up.

"Mrs. Farren! Why are you here running around?" a nurse called out, rushing toward me. She grabbed my arm and helped me back toward the maternity ward.

"Your test results are out. You should come take a look."

Her expression was odd, her tone laced with hesitation as she sighed. "Maybe… maybe you should call your family. Let them know what's going on. From the looks of it, the results aren't great…"

The room spun, a wave of dizziness washing over me. I thought I might pass out, but somehow, I managed to hold myself together and sank into the chair opposite the doctor.

"You should have your family here," the doctor urged gently.

"No need." My face was pale, but my voice carried a quiet determination. "Just tell me. I can handle it."

The doctor hesitated briefly before nodding. He placed the test results on the desk and began to explain.

The words felt like distant echoes. In simple terms, the baby couldn't be saved.

"You're quite far along," the doctor said with a sigh, "The fetus has formed, but based on the results, keeping it won't be good for you—or the baby."

Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the sheet of paper in my hands. It detailed everything in cold, clinical terms: the baby had congenital disabilities. Even if born, survival was unlikely.

But that wasn't all. My own health indicators were dangerously poor. Termination would be safer, for both my body and my future.

And then there was Ian. The man who fathered this child was out there, tangled in a shameful display that made my stomach turn.

My hands trembled violently as I gripped the paper tightly. My voice, weak yet unwavering, pushed its way out of my throat.

"I choose termination. Please arrange the surgery."

This was the only choice that made sense—for everyone.

And after this, I would pour every ounce of my energy into confronting Ian. He would bear the blame for everything. He would pay for what he had done.

And for my child…

He would pay with his life.

The doctor scheduled my procedure for the day after tomorrow.

I called my parents to tell them about the situation, including the fact that Ian had cheated on me.

On the other end of the line, my parents broke down into uncontrollable sobs. They immediately booked plane tickets to come and be with me.

"I'll have your uncle come to stay with you for now," my mother said, her voice brimming with anger. "At the very least, Ian deserves to have his skin peeled off!"

I nodded, doing my best to reassure them not to worry about me. I had already lost all hope for Ian, so my emotions would no longer be swayed by his actions.

After hanging up the call, I slowly pushed open the door to the hospital room.

The moment I stepped inside, my eyes locked with Ian's. He was grimacing in pain, struggling to get out of bed, but the instant he saw me, he froze as if his soul had fled his body.

"H-Honey," he stammered, panic spilling from his voice. "W-why are y-you here?"

I ignored his question, dragged a chair over, and sat down opposite him. Slowly, I placed my hand over my stomach, stroking it absentmindedly.

He fidgeted nervously under my gaze, then tried to ingratiate himself by handing me a glass of water.

"You wouldn't believe what happened," he began, launching into his performance with astonishing ease. "Last night, I was driving when some lunatic started making trouble. We ended up flying off the road and into a ditch, just like that! And to top it all off, I had a passenger in the car. Talk about bad luck."

I stayed silent, unmoved. Undeterred, he leaned closer, his voice suddenly soft. "Honey, when did you get here?"

I raised my head slowly and, without warning, slapped him across the face.

"Who was the woman?" I asked.

He clutched his cheek, his expression shifting to one of feigned confusion. "What do you mean?"

I pressed further. "Or should I ask—how often do you change them?"

Ian's gaze darted around the room, his attempt to feign ignorance faltering. "I—I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.

I stood up abruptly, my face devoid of emotion, and looked down at him. "I seem to recall there are street cameras in this area," I said, my tone calm but piercing. "If it was just an accident, the footage should be clear. I think I'll pay the police a visit, get the video, and upload it online. Let's see what the public has to say about who's the lunatic here."

My words made the blood drain from his face. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he fumbled with his hands, unable to form a coherent response.

The sight of him like this reignited the rage simmering inside me. My thoughts turned to my child, and in an instant, hatred surged through me. Grabbing a nearby chair, I swung it at him with all my might.

He barely managed to dodge, but the chair still caught his side, making him yelp in pain.

"Casey!" he shouted, incredulous. "What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to kill me?"

"Yes!" I screamed back, my voice raw with fury. "Right now, I'd love nothing more than to kill you!"

In all the years we'd been together—three years dating, four years married—I had never raised my voice at him. I had always been gentle, patient, and accommodating. He, stunned by this unfamiliar side of me, seemed momentarily at a loss. But then, his own anger flared.

"All this fuss over me sleeping with someone else?" he spat, his tone incredulous. "It's not like I brought her home. Do you really need to blow this out of proportion?"

His words hit me like a slap, each one more absurd than the last.

His gaze drifted down to my stomach, and he sneered. "And let's be honest here—this is your fault. If you weren't pregnant and could still satisfy me, I wouldn't have had to look elsewhere."

For a moment, the world around me seemed to collapse. Ian had the audacity to blame me for his infidelity.

He reclined against the bed as if he were some kind of king, his face full of self-righteousness. "Now that you know, there's no point hiding it. Yes, I cheated. But what choice did I have? What was I supposed to do, stay celibate just because you're pregnant?"

My ears buzzed, drowning out everything else. This was the first time I truly saw him for who he was.

"Look, I swear," he said, his tone softening as he reached out to grab my hand. "I won't fool around anymore, I promise. From now on, I'll stay home, take care of you, and wait for the baby to be born."

His hand moved to my stomach, his voice suddenly laced with false sincerity. "No matter how angry you are, you don't want our child to grow up without a father, do you?"