At five months pregnant, my husband's mistress visited our home, intending to start a fire.
Instead of calling Jeremiah Carson, I covered my face with damp cloths and silently waited for help.
In my previous existence, I had immediately phoned him when the blaze began, requesting emergency medical assistance.
The infant survived that time, but Yvonne Blunt perished in the flames.
He claimed not to blame me, encouraging me to remain hospitalized until delivery. He even took time off to care for me.
However, on the day I gave birth, he brutally killed our newborn.
He forced both me and the baby into the inferno.
In my final moments, I glimpsed his vicious, distorted expression through the flickering light.
"Yvonne wouldn't have died if you hadn't started that fire! Did you think you could deceive me by playing the victim? Think again! You'll pay for her death!"
"You enjoy arson? I'll make you experience it firsthand, feeling Yvonne's agony before she died!"
As I regained consciousness, I found myself back at the fire scene.

After My Husband's Lover Played With Fire and Burned Herself

From start to finish, Yvonne was the only one who held Jeremiah's heart.


I regained consciousness to find myself in a hospital room.


A stranger stood by my bed, introducing himself, "You're awake? I live below you. I went to check on the fire and found you unconscious upstairs. So I brought you here. How are you feeling? Are you alright?"


I tried to move, but froze when my hands touched my abdomen.


"I'm sorry, but the doctors couldn't save your baby when I brought you in..."


I forced a weak smile and said, "It's not your fault. I understand. Thank you for bringing me to the hospital."


Even a stranger could see something was wrong with me, yet my husband of five years couldn't be bothered to look my way.


He was more annoyed by my sadness than I was.


"What's wrong with these rescue teams? How could they ignore someone lying there?"


"If I hadn't found you, you might be dead now! Where's your family? Doesn't the baby's father care about you?"


"Give me his number and I'll call him. You shouldn't be alone right now."


"I've reported the rescue team. People like that are a menace to society!"


I nodded and lied bitterly, "The baby's father is dead."


He offered to stay until I was discharged, but I declined.


I transferred him money for the hospital fees and convinced him to leave.


Though he was gone, online outrage continued.


The fire at the rescue team leader's house was trending on social media.


My neighbor had posted a photo of me unconscious in the comments.


It sparked heated debate, with people condemning the rescue team for ignoring a pregnant woman to focus on the fire.


They said the team should be called firefighters, not rescuers.


I scrolled through the angry comments, feeling the punishment was too light for Jeremiah.


I was about to message him for a divorce when Yvonne's boastful text appeared.


She was in the same hospital, on a lower floor.


Her photo showed Jeremiah carefully feeding her porridge, blowing on it to cool it.


I'd seen so many intimate photos of them that this no longer affected me.


I calmly closed her message and called Jeremiah.


He finally answered on the fifth try, sounding very irritated.


"You have the nerve to call? What, wondering if Yvonne died? Sorry to disappoint, but I saved her! She's fine and in the hospital now!"


"Zenith, I never thought you were capable of this. Do you realize what you've done? You're attempting murder! Are you insane?"


"You have one hour to get to her room and apologize, or I'm divorcing you!"


Before I could speak, I heard Yvonne crying in the background.


"Jeremiah, don't blame your wife. It's my fault. If she says I started the fire, just agree. Don't argue with her. Pregnant women shouldn't get too emotional."


He sighed heavily and said, "Yvonne, you're too kind. That's why she always mistreats you. We met first, so who is she to attack you?"


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