At the food festival, my husband's first love pushed me, three months pregnant, into a boiling oil vat.
My belly was instantly scalded through, amniotic fluid leaking out and fusing with my clothes.
My husband rushed in with a doctor, but his first action was to meticulously treat the scratches on his first love's hands.
"Back to your tricks again, huh? Burning yourself for sympathy, then framing Primrose?"
He glanced at me with a cold sneer.
"You'd really do anything to get rid of her, wouldn't you?"
With that, my husband quietly coaxed his first love to leave.
As for me, I passed out on the oil-stained kitchen floor from massive blood loss and the excruciating pain of the burns.
When I opened my eyes again, chaos erupted in the kitchen, and I felt another forceful shove from behind.