He Chose Her the Night I Miscarried. Now He’s on His Knees

“Mrs. Bennett! Stay with us!”

Strapped to a stretcher and wheeled toward the ambulance, I could barely breathe through the searing pain tearing through my abdomen.

Panic swallowed me whole.

Blood smeared across my phone screen, but I didn’t have the strength to wipe it away. I listened to the ringing tone as my vision slowly blurred.

Warm wetness trickled between my legs. Blood was pouring out of me, while my body grew colder by the second.

Around me, the paramedics shouted urgent instructions.

Then the call connected.

“...What is it?”

My husband’s cold voice came through the phone.

Nathan Bennett sounded calm, detached, as though even speaking to me for a few seconds was already too much trouble.

“Nathan... something’s wrong. I’m bleeding... The baby...”

Silence.

Those few seconds felt endless.

“Bleeding? The baby?”

He sounded completely lost, as if he had no idea what I was talking about.

Then I heard him let out a long, irritated sigh.

“How many times are you going to pull the same stunt?”

Voices murmured in the background on his end.

“I’m busy. You know that. I don’t have time to play along with one of your little performances.”

Tears slid down my face.

“No... It’s not like that. I really...”

A sharp wave of pain hit me before I could finish.

My words broke apart, but I forced myself to keep going.

“I’m in an ambulance... They’re taking me to the hospital...”

Then, just as I spoke, a woman’s voice came from the other end of the line.

“Nathan, who are you talking to?”

Her voice was soft and sweet, almost childish in the way she spoke.

And I knew that voice.

The second I heard it, my breath caught and my heart lurched.

That voice...

No. It couldn’t be her.

“Sophie... it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Nathan’s answer struck like a blow, confirming the fear I had spent so long refusing to face.

Sophie.

Sophie Dawson.

The daughter of the housekeeper who worked in our home.

Nathan was with her.

But why?

“Hey, Nathan,” Sophie said softly, “will you come hear the test results with me?”

Even through the phone, I could hear the smile in his voice when he answered her.

The difference was impossible to miss.

The way he spoke to her was gentle. Warm.

He hadn’t spoken to me like that in years.

Why was he with her?

Why was he being so kind to her?

The questions spun through my mind until I could barely think.

My heart raced. I struggled for air.

I told myself it was because I was losing the baby. Because my body was failing.

My fingers trembled around the bloodstained phone as I forced out the question that had been clawing at me.

“Nathan... Why are you with Sophie? Why...?”

Before he could answer, an announcement sounded over the hospital intercom on his end.

“Sophie Dawson, please proceed to Exam Room Three for your prenatal appointment.”

The line went dead.

A cold electronic beep filled my ears.

Prenatal appointment.

Those two words tore straight through me.

A broken laugh escaped my throat.

I was laughing, but tears kept pouring down my face.

My hand went numb. The phone slipped from my fingers, hit the ambulance floor with a dull clatter, and rolled away.

So that was it.

Warm blood kept running between my legs while my body slowly turned cold.

How pathetic.

I was on the verge of losing our baby.

And my husband was accompanying another woman to her prenatal appointment.

That woman was the housekeeper’s daughter.

“Mrs. Bennett, we’re starting an IV.”

A paramedic inserted a needle into my arm.

It should have hurt.

I felt nothing.

Another hollow laugh rose in my throat, only to die when a fresh wave of pain tore through me.

My hands were freezing. The feeling in my fingers was fading.

Even as a doctor, I knew this wasn’t good.

This was bad.

Really bad.

The darkness pressed in around me as my consciousness began to slip away.

I was too exhausted to fight it anymore.