The Secret Abortion1 / 3

Chapter 1

After burning my hand, I took an Uber to the hospital alone.

A doctor I knew saw me and asked, "How is your wife's recovery after her procedure to end the pregnancy?"

I froze in shock. It turned out she had gone behind my back to get rid of our child.

I opened my phone and saw a post from her best friend:

"It is so good when there is no toxic man stalking your every move. Sasha is so devoted to Leo."

The attached photo showed Sasha Quinn looking tenderly at her childhood sweetheart, Leo Kane, who was lying in a hospital bed.

I liked the post, and she deleted it almost instantly.

Then, a message from Sasha flashed on my screen, full of cautious explanations.

I simply smiled and replied: "Take good care of him."

Sasha panicked and asked: "Silas Reed, why are you ignoring me?"

...

I stood in the bakery, my spatula dancing across the cream.

I was in a rush to get home for our anniversary, and in my haste to pull the pastry out of the oven, I badly scorched my hand.

Huge blisters formed, and the pain was so intense I couldn't drive.

I messaged Sasha, hoping she could pick me up from the studio.

I wanted to see the joy on her face when I fed her the dessert I made with my own hands.

Sasha's reply came back cold and detached:

"I have plans tonight. Figure it out yourself."

As if to ease my doubts, she quickly added another line.

"It is just us childhood friends, no outsiders."

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over me. I tossed the carefully prepared dessert into the trash and took an Uber to the hospital.

At the hospital, I bumped into a doctor I knew. The moment he saw me, he asked:

"How is your wife's recovery after her procedure to end the pregnancy?"

A chill crawled from my spine to my skull. I answered stiffly after a long silence:

"She is doing fine."

The dressing for the burn was painful, but I couldn't feel a thing.

My heart felt hollow, as if something vital had been carved out of me.

Back home, I sat on the living room sofa, idling with the remote, but nothing on the TV could hold my focus.

I pulled out my phone, intending to ask Sasha if she needed a ride home.

But before I could type a word, I saw a new post from her best friend.

"It is so good when there is no toxic man stalking your every move. Sasha is so devoted to Leo."

Beneath the text was a photo of Sasha.

Her eyes were brimming with tenderness and concern as she gazed at Leo in his hospital bed.

They were part of a tight-knit group―three girls and one guy―who grew up together.

I knew Leo had always been the special one in her circle. If he hadn't been tricked into a bad marriage by some out-of-town socialite years ago, a man like me would never have had the chance to marry Sasha.

Now, Leo was divorced and back with his daughter. Instead of blaming him for leaving Sasha back then, her friends treated me like the intruder who ruined their perfect dynamic.

Sasha often drank with them until the early hours. Fearing for her safety, I used to show up at the bars to bring her home.

The only result was that her friends hated me even more. They called me a buzzkill and privately labeled me a "creep."

When they visited our home, they treated me like a servant without a hint of politeness.

Today, Sasha chose them over me again.

Before this, she had even hidden the fact that she terminated our own flesh and blood.

But maybe this is for the best. At least I won't be soft-hearted toward her anymore.

I liked the post. It disappeared seconds later, as if the person realized they forgot to block me.

At four in the morning, Sasha came home smelling of bourbon.

She lingered in the living room for a moment before pushing open the bedroom door.

Seeing me awake, a flash of panic crossed her eyes, but she still slid behind me and hugged me gently.

"Did you not make me any Greek yogurt today?" she asked.

I let out a soft grunt. The scent of cologne mixed with alcohol on her skin made me nauseous.