I WANT A DIVORCE !

Five Hours Later

Emily Jacobs – Point of View

I blink slowly as consciousness drifts back into my body, like a tide returning to shore after a storm. My eyelids are heavy, my limbs even heavier. A soft beeping rhythm echoes in the background—a monitor. I am lying flat, staring at a white ceiling that feels both unfamiliar and blindingly sterile.

My lower abdomen feels numb, but not empty. There is a deep hollow sensation radiating through my body like something monumental has happened. And then… it all rushes back.

The blood. The pain. The ambulance. The betrayal.

Delilah !

Jackson !

The memory crashes into me like a violent wave, and I suddenly can not breathe. I remember the hotel room, the lace lingerie, the smirk on Delilah’s face as she draped herself over my husband. My best friend.

A betrayal so deep, I did not think I would survive it.

And now here I am hooked to machines in a hospital room. Alone.

No sound of crying babies. No warm, fuzzy feelings of new motherhood. Just silence. Cold and loud.

Where are my babies ?

My heart starts to race. I shift slightly, ignoring the pull of pain at my abdomen. The cesarean scar must still be fresh. Panic sets in.

The door creaks open, and a woman in scrubs walks in with a clipboard. She looks up and gasps softly when she sees my eyes open.

“Oh! You are awake,” she says gently, a warm smile blooming across her face. “You had us all worried.”

She walks over and starts checking my vitals, adjusting my IV with delicate fingers. There is something calming about her presence , her voice soft, her eyes kind. She treats me not like a patient, but like someone she genuinely cares about.

But the only question that matters slips past my lips in a broken whisper.

“Nurse… are my babies alive?”

She stops adjusting the pillow and looks at me.

“Yes,” she says, her smile deepening. “Two beautiful baby girls and one healthy baby boy. You made it, Mama. They made it.”

Tears spring to my eyes, unbidden. A wave of emotion crashes into me , relief, joy, gratitude, exhaustion.

“I remember you,” I whisper. “You were in the operating room…”

“I promised you a safe delivery,” she says. “And I always keep my promises.”

She pats my shoulder gently, her voice suddenly thick with emotion. “You are a miracle. All three of them are. I will bring them to you in a few minutes… and I will let your husband know you are awake.”

Her words hang in the air.

Your husband.

I almost forgot for a moment. Jackson. The man who shattered my world hours before our babies entered it.

My chest tightens again. He was supposed to be there for me holding my hand, whispering encouragement, crying happy tears. Not tangled in bedsheets with my best friend.

This is not the birth story I dreamed of. I had pictured warm lights, laughter, our parents waiting outside the delivery room, Jackson kissing my forehead after we welcomed our children into the world.

Instead, my memories of today are drenched in betrayal. A woman I once called my sister became my husband’s lover. And the man I gave my heart to… broke it with no remorse.

Five Minutes Later

The door swings open.

And there he is.

Jackson walks in like nothing happened wearing a crisp designer suit, his hair freshly styled. He is holding a bouquet of roses and my favorite Belgian chocolates, as if either can erase the stain he has smeared across our marriage.

A small velvet box rests in his other hand. My stomach twists.

He crosses the room with the same confidence he used to charm investors and win over corporate sharks. He leans down, kisses my forehead gently and places the box in my lap like it is a peace offering.

But I do not open it.

I just stare at him. Silent. Cold.

Is he serious?

Does he really believe a few flowers and a diamond can fix this?

He clears his throat. “My love… do not tell me you are still upset about earlier. We are parents now. That is what matters. Do not let some jealous gold-digger ruin our beautiful family.”

My jaw tightens. My pulse races.

Did he just call Delilah a gold-digger?

The audacity. The sheer delusion.

I open my mouth, my voice sharp and cold. “Jackson, I want a divorce.”

His smile falters for the first time. The color drains from his face. “What?”

“I said,” I repeat, slowly, “I. Want. A . Divorce.”

For a moment, he just stands there, stunned.

Then the begging starts.

“Emily, no… you can not do this. We just had kids. Our family think about our family. Don’t let one mistake destroy everything.”

“One mistake?” I laugh bitterly. “You call sleeping with my best friend !my maid of honor a mistake?”

“She means nothing to me.”

“You sure had your arms wrapped around her like she meant something.”

He paces the room like a caged animal, raking a hand through his hair. “Look, I messed up. I know. But we can fix this. We can go to therapy, we can—”

“You can be part of their lives, Jackson. But not mine. Never again.”

Just then, the nurse walks back in, pushing a clear bassinet on wheels. Inside lie three perfect bundles swaddled in soft pink and blue blankets.

“Two beautiful baby girls and one handsome boy,” she says cheerfully. “Congratulations, family.”

She gives me a wink and leaves the room, her presence as comforting as a lullaby.

I look down at my children for the first time and the entire world falls away.

They are tiny and delicate, with rosy cheeks and wisps of dark hair. One of the girls stretches and yawns, her tiny mouth forming the sweetest “O.” My boy already has Jackson’s eyes big and observant.

I do not know how it is possible to feel so shattered and so whole at the same time.

My arms reach out instinctively, and the nurse gently places each baby into my embrace. I cradle them close, pressing kisses to their soft foreheads. They are my strength now. My reason.

Tears fall down Jackson’s face as he picks up our son, gently rocking him.

“I can not believe this,” he whispers. “They’re perfect. You gave me the most incredible gift. Please, Emily. Let’s raise them together.”

I watch him hold our child with genuine tenderness. And for a moment, I remember the man I fell in love with. The man who used to wake me up with breakfast in bed. Who whispered dreams about baby names and family vacations.

But then I remember the pain. The betrayal. The hotel room.

And I know what I have to do.

“No amount of diamonds or money will erase what you’ve done,” I say quietly. “You broke me, Jackson. You broke us. I will not raise my children in a house built on lies.”

His eyes plead with me, but I am unmoved.

“I will call my lawyer as soon as I leave this hospital.”

I look down at my babies, and a fierce protectiveness surges through me. They deserve honesty. Safety. Love.

And I deserve peace.

He nods slowly, tears still streaming down his face. “Just… promise me I won’t lose them.”

“You won’t,” I whisper. “But you already lost me.”

As he turns to leave, I rock my babies gently, whispering promises to them that I intend to keep.

They will grow up loved. Safe. Protected.

And as for Delilah and Jackson?

They will both learn that betrayal comes with a price.