Chapter 1

On the day my spouse was supposed to accompany me for a prenatal check-up, he received a call from an old romantic interest. A simple "I miss you" was all it took for him to abandon me on the sidewalk without hesitation.

I anticipated an emotional outburst, expecting to shout and berate him, but instead, I remained composed. I silently scheduled an abortion for the following day. However, upon discovering this, my husband became distraught, practically pushing his 'darling' away and pleading tearfully for my forgiveness.

This particular day, Kris Blanchard, my husband, was meant to escort me to the hospital for a pregnancy examination. Midway through our journey, his former flame, Fern Robbins, phoned to inform him that her child had a high temperature. Without explanation, he instructed me—his wife, three months pregnant—to exit the vehicle, and he drove directly to Fern's residence in the opposite direction.

He left me stranded on an isolated street. The heavy snowfall that evening had transformed everything into a treacherous, icy landscape, causing me to slip and fall. An excruciating pain, like countless needles, pierced through my abdomen. A compassionate stranger discovered me and transported me to the hospital. I was immensely relieved when the physician assured me that my unborn child was unharmed.

Post-examination, I repeatedly tried to contact Kris, hoping he'd come to retrieve me, but he never responded. Each call went unanswered or encountered a busy signal. Yet when Fern called, he answered promptly. This reminded me of our pre-marital days—his phone was always on, perpetually awaiting my call. I returned home, my heart heavy, and collapsed onto the bed.

Kris returned around 1 a.m., visibly irritated and muttering as he entered.

"You've already retired? You didn't even leave a light on for me."

Previously, I would wait for him regardless of how late he arrived. If I dozed off, I'd ensure the bedside lamp remained lit. Tonight, however, I lacked the energy to care. I turned away from him, leaving his queries unanswered.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Are you truly behaving this way? Fern's son had a 102-degree fever. Had I not taken them to the hospital, he could have suffered brain damage. Show some empathy, please."

"Did you spare a thought for me when you left me curbside during a snowstorm? Did you even wonder if I managed to reach the hospital? I'm pregnant, for goodness sake—with our child!" I retorted.

"Who is your wife, Kris? Is Fern so helpless that she can't dial emergency services herself? Why must she rely on another woman's husband to solve her problems?" I persisted.

Kris exhaled deeply, gazing at me as if I were being irrational.

"Don't be so small-minded, Elodie. Fern has just returned from England. Her British husband divorced her, and she's alone here. I'm her only acquaintance. Life hasn't been easy for her. Single parenthood is exhausting. If there's any way I can assist her, I felt obligated to do so."

"For her?" I felt tears welling up. "Then why not divorce me and be with her? Isn't that what you desire?"

The more I spoke, the more my heart ached. I recalled our pre-marital days. The Kris I once knew prioritized me above all else. Even a minor cold would send him into a frenzy, rushing me to the hospital, disregarding urgent calls from his superior. Now, he seemed like a stranger, apathetic and detached.

Perhaps noticing my heartbreak, he softened, approaching to embrace me.

"Come now, don't be upset, darling. Forgive me this once. I promise it won't happen again," he said gently, attempting to console me. One hand slipped beneath my collar as his lips grazed my neck. "I've missed you. It's been a while since we've been intimate." I forcefully pushed his hand away.

"What do you mean, a while? We were together just last month! The doctor cautioned me—no more intercourse until after the baby's birth, or I could miscarry."

"Fine, fine," Kris grumbled, clearly frustrated as he released me. He grabbed his phone, and whatever he saw caused his face to brighten. His eyes softened, and he appeared completely engrossed. I called his name, but he didn't respond. It was as if he couldn't hear me.

While he showered, I picked up his phone from the nightstand. To my surprise, he had altered the lock screen password. It used to be my birthdate. After several unsuccessful attempts, I tried 1123, and it worked.