04

5

"I need to ensure she remembers everything I say this time," I thought to myself.

As boredom began to set in for both of us, I casually remarked, "Let's end our marriage. I'm in agreement. I'll send you the divorce papers shortly. Don't forget to sign them."

Jeremiah was caught off guard by my initiative to seek a divorce.

He was momentarily shocked, then became furious. Just as his anger was about to erupt, I abruptly ended the call.

Before I could block his number, a flood of text messages arrived.

[Where are you? Zenith, have you lost your mind today? I held back before because I thought you were expecting, but you're pushing it too far now?]

[Do you really think I won't divorce you just because you're pregnant? I'm warning you, on the day you give birth, no one will be there to sign, and you'll have to drag yourself out of bed to beg me!]

[Also, remove that online post immediately! Don't make me reveal your true nature to everyone!]

I stopped reading, erased all the messages, and blocked his number.

Despite the painful lessons from my past life, his betrayal once again left me heartbroken.

Afterward, several nurses came in to change my bandages. Oblivious to my mood, they chatted among themselves.

"The man downstairs is incredibly handsome. I've never seen such a well-matched couple! I heard they've been together since childhood, a school romance. I'm so jealous."

"Your information is outdated. The latest news is that Mr. Carson reserved a spot in the cafeteria at great expense, just to cook for his beloved wife every day so she could eat his homemade porridge!"

"When I went to give her medication earlier, Mr. Carson wouldn't let me touch her. He insisted on doing it himself. What an amazing couple!"

I stared blankly at the injection site on the back of my hand.

The skin, which had peeled off, felt both painful and itchy at that moment.

After they left, I felt like I could breathe again and took in deep gulps of air.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fill my lungs completely.

That evening, the doctor visited and informed me that due to the severe abdominal injury, it would be challenging for me to conceive in the future.

Surprisingly, my initial reaction to this news was relief.

At least without children, he wouldn't have to suffer alongside me.

An innocent life deserved better circumstances.

Once everyone had left the room, I checked the latest online updates on my phone.

The cyberbullying had spiraled out of control, forcing the rescue team leader to make a statement.

However, in his explanation, he claimed that I had orchestrated the fire.

He said I had intentionally harmed someone out of jealousy.

Not only had I wasted the unit's rescue resources, but I had also dragged their respected team leader into the controversy.

In the video, the leader added that he hoped people would move past this incident.

But every word he spoke shifted the blame onto me.

To lend credibility to the video, Jeremiah created an account using his real name and posted our marriage certificate.

His actions completely crushed me under the weight of online harassment.

The anger originally directed at the rescue team now turned against me.

My social media account was officially suspended.

Any attempts to explain myself were drowned out by the vitriol of internet users.

In the days that followed, I could sense the hostility in the eyes of the hospital staff.

If not for their professional ethics, I feared they might have thrown me out already.

I received packages from various locations daily, all containing threats.

I never attempted to defend myself against these attacks.

I unblocked Jeremiah's number only to send him a message on the day the doctor said I could leave the hospital.

[Meet at the Town Hall tomorrow to finalize the paperwork.]

He seized this opportunity and called me back.

"What, can't hide anymore? You have the audacity to show up? I warned you and gave you a chance, but you refused to take down the online posts. So don't accuse me of being cruel now!"

"If Yvonne hadn't pleaded for you, I would have called the police and had you arrested long ago! Divorce? Fine, if that's what you want. But don't come crying to me when the child has no father! It's your fault he'll be an orphan!"

He hung up before I could respond.

Calmly, I accessed the surveillance software for our house and copied the footage of Yvonne starting the fire that day.

The next morning, after being discharged, I went directly to the Town Hall with my documents.

But instead of Jeremiah, Yvonne showed up.

"I told you before, you can't win against me. Your husband is just my puppet."

As her eyes fell on my abdomen, she feigned surprise and said,

"Oh, the baby's gone? What a shame. Killed by his biological father in his past life, and again in this one. With a mother like you, he was destined for a short life ...."

What?

Has she also traveled through time?

Before I could process this, I slapped her across the face.

Weakened from the miscarriage, I didn't have much strength.

But she fell straight to the ground.

"Yvonne!"

Jeremiah rushed over from behind me and shoved me aside.

I tumbled down the steps and landed on the ground.

He cradled her in his arms and then, as if remembering something, suddenly turned to look at my stomach.

Noticing my flat abdomen, his face drained of color.

"Where's the baby?"