Chapter 3

The next morning, I was at the hospital for a follow-up appointment. I didn't tell Ethan where I was going. I just left.

The doctor was kind, his voice gentle as he explained the recovery process. I listened, asked questions about my physical health, and tried to focus on the practical steps. It was easier than focusing on the gaping hole inside me.

As I was leaving the consultation room, I almost ran right into her.

Chloe.

She was standing in the hallway, looking completely out of place in her trendy, brightly colored dress. She gave me a saccharine smile.

"Ava! What a coincidence to see you here."

Behind her, I saw him. Ethan. He looked surprised, and a flash of guilt crossed his face before he masked it with his usual arrogance.

"What are you doing here?" Chloe asked, her eyes flicking over me with fake concern. "Are you not feeling well? You look so tired."

The provocation was so obvious it was almost pathetic.

"Ava, what's going on?" Ethan demanded, stepping forward. He didn't ask if I was okay. He just demanded information. "Why are you at the hospital? You need to come home."

His tone was possessive, as if I were a piece of property that had wandered off.

"I had a follow-up appointment," I said, clutching the file in my hand.

He reached for it, but I pulled it back. "What is that? Let me see."

His eyes narrowed. In the struggle, the file slipped from my grasp, its contents spilling across the polished floor. The top page was a discharge summary. The words "Surgical Abortion" were printed in stark, black letters.

Ethan froze. He stared at the paper, then at me.

Chloe gasped theatrically. "Oh, my god. Ethan, did you know about this?"

Ethan turned on her, his voice sharp. "Why didn't you tell me she was here? You knew I was looking for her."

He was blaming her. The cowardice was breathtaking. He couldn't face his own failure, so he deflected it onto his mistress.

"I... I didn't know," Chloe stammered, looking genuinely hurt for a second.

"It doesn't matter," I said, bending down to collect the papers. "I'm still filing for divorce, Ethan. This changes nothing."

"We're not getting a divorce," he snapped, his voice rising. "This is just a rough patch. We can fix this."

"There's nothing left to fix," I said, standing up.

Chloe quickly recovered, stepping closer to Ethan and placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Ethan, honey, don't get upset. It's not good for your blood pressure. You know what the doctor said."

She shot me a triumphant little smirk, a clear display of her role as his new caretaker.

Ethan's attention was suddenly diverted. His eyes darted past me, to a large informational poster on the wall behind me. It was an awareness campaign for cardiovascular health. His face went pale, his gaze fixed on the poster. It was as if our entire conversation, the divorce, the miscarriage, had just vanished from his mind. He seemed completely captivated by the sign about heart conditions.

I didn't understand his reaction. It was bizarre.

But I didn't care.

I turned to walk away. "I'll have the papers sent to your office," I said over my shoulder.

This was the end.