On My Wedding Anniversary, I Miscarried While My Husband Was with His Sweetheart
On our eighth wedding anniversary, my husband sent me a massive bouquet of roses.
As soon as I came out of surgery, I called him and calmly asked for a divorce.
On the other end of the line, his girlfriend sobbed an apology:
“Mrs. Quinn,
Millo O
n, it’s all my fault. Please don’t be angry
ry with Mr. Quinn.”
Milo Quinn gently comforted her for a while, then coldly said to me: “As you wish.”
When I saw him again, it was already half a month later.
“Make me some pasta, will you?”
Milo Quinn returned home early in the morning, but didn’t see the usual hot meal waiting on the dining table.
He frowned instinctively, giving me a couple of instructions before heading to the bathroom.
When he emerged surrounded by steam, I was still absentmindedly staring at the TV.
He took several designer handbags out of his suitcase: “Take a look, do you like them?”
The pink bags seemed to be the styles young girls favored most
In the past, wh
when he tried to make up with me, he would always cater to my tastes,
Now, he was just trying to appease me with thoughtless gifts.
I couldn’t be bothered to look, so I picked up the remote and changed the channel, asking him
“When do you have time to get divorced?”
Milo Quinn was very busy; even our anniversary gift was chosen by his female secretary.
When it came to scheduling. I had to accommodate him.
“Stop being difficult. Jennie didn’t know you hate roses. I’ll remind her next time.”
The man poured himself a small glass of red wine and sat down in the armchair opposite me, with an ambiguous smile.
Jennie was
assistant.
Milo’s childhood friend. She had liked him since they were young, so as soon as she graduated, she quickly became his personal
Their relationship was so close that they even stayed in the same suite during business trips.
Actually, I didn’t blame Jennie for pursuing Milo.
After all, it takes two to tango.
If he didn’t want it, no woman could climb into his bed.
Lexaggeratedly yawned, tears unconsciously welling up in my eyes.
After not hearing my reply for a long time, Milo Quinn thought the matter was over.
He asked about our seven–year–old son’s recent test rankings.
I shook my head: “I don’t know.”
I wasn’t refusing to tell him because I was angry.
I really didn’t know.
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The Quinn family pursued elite education, so our son had been attending boarding school since he was young, with a packed schedule of various courses every day.
Laughably, even though I gave birth to this child, I rarely got to see him.
I cried and made a fuss about it, but the Quinn family remained unmoved.
In their view, my marrying into the Quinn family was already my greatest honor.
As for anything else, I couldn’t even dream of it.
Milo Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose, telling me to focus more on our child:
“If this continues, Jennie will become more like his mother than you!
I understood.
Yesterday was Friday, the only day I was allowed to pick up our son from school.
I arrived an hour early and waited until the sky darkened and the school gates closed.
Then Jennie called to tell me that Mrs. Quinn had asked her to pick up the child and take him home for dinner.
On the other end of the line, I heard Milo’s voice.
He was laughing and asking Jennie if she wanted some soup.
I snapped back to reality and said to Milo with a mirthless smile:
“Isn’t this what you wanted? ril leave right away and make room for her.”
I don’t know which word struck a nerve with Milo, but he fell silent for a few seconds before exploding in anger:
“My patience has limits.
Aria Lee, stop being so difficult”
The man stood up and took a couple of steps before I calmly said:
“I forgot to tell you, I had a miscarriage.”
One month ago.
That night, he received a call from Jennie and rushed out just to help her avoid drinking.
while I was in so much pain I nearly fainted. I drove myself to the ER.
The doctor told me I had been pregnant for over two months, but the baby had no heartbeat and had already miscarried,
When I learned the child was gone, I actually felt relieved.
Lying alone in the hospital room, I thought it was time to end this marriage.
In the living room, Milo Quinn stood with his back to me, gripping his wine glass tightly, his knuckles turning white.
