I Wish You Well

The surgery had just ended, and my phone wouldn’t stop ringing.

“Tess, where the heck are you? Why haven’t you sorted out the academic warning with the administration yet?” Eric’s irritated voice came through the receiver.

I licked my dry lips before responding, “I’m at the hospital. And by the way, I want a divorce.”

The empty feeling of losing the baby and the searing pain of the procedure spread through every bone in my body.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before he broke the silence.

“Tess, are you serious right now? You’re too old to be playing these jealous, manipulative games. I’m taking Grace for a little getaway. Maybe you should use this time to think things through.”

I stared at the screen as the call disconnected, still heartbroken. There was not a single word of concern or even a question about why I was at the hospital—nothing to comfort me. We felt like strangers now, and I couldn’t help but wonder, what did our seven years together even mean?

Due to my health, it has always been hard for me to conceive. In the beginning, whenever his mother would pester us about having kids, Eric always had my back.

“Mom, I’m not ready for kids yet. My career is just taking off,” he used to say.

Thinking back, it was almost laughable. As I couldn’t get pregnant, we decided to sponsor a child in a rural area, and somehow, that led to Grace becoming a part of his life. Over time, he stopped defending me and started echoing his mother’s demands, pressuring me to take fertility pills every day.

“Tess, we’re not getting any younger. It’s time we have a child.”

He was the reason I forced myself to swallow the pills for six long months. Even though I had always hated anything bitter, I endured it. Then, when I finally got pregnant, before I could even tell him, he had the baby taken away.

Returning to the home I had painstakingly decorated and built, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of irony. All the time and effort I had poured into this marriage felt like one big joke.

I unlocked my phone, only to see a new message from Grace, filled with pictures from her vacation in the Maldives.

[I heard this place is the city of romance. Big thanks to Mr. Gardner for bringing me here!] she wrote.

The pictures showed her and Eric together, close and intimate, kissing in almost every shot. The look in Eric’s eyes as he gazed at her was all too familiar. It was the same loving expression he used to have when he looked at me, but now, he didn’t even spare me a glance when we talked.

The word “Maldives” echoed in my mind, reminding me of the early days of our relationship. I once playfully told him while cuddling in his arms that I wanted our honeymoon to be in the Maldives.

He chuckled, playfully tapping my nose. “Alright, whatever my lady wants.”

However, when our honeymoon came, he canceled the trip for work, and we never went.

Years later, when I brought it up again, hoping we could finally go, his response was laced with mockery. “Tess, we’re not kids anymore. Let’s not waste time on pointless things.”

His words had left me speechless, the color draining from my face.

As if to make things worse, Grace followed up with another message. [Oops, sorry, Tess. I thought I was writing on my notes!]

I knew it was deliberate. She had always pulled little stunts like this, even before things escalated between her and Eric.

One time, I had been up for hours making bolognese for Eric. I wanted to surprise him since he was working late.

Grace had just graduated and had come to the city for college, so she was staying with us for a while. Without thinking, she knocked over the entire pot of bolognese I had been simmering for hours.

Already exhausted from pulling several all-nighters, my frustration got the better of me, and my tone was sharp.

Grace pouted and stuck out her tongue. “Sorry, Mrs. Gardner. I’m just so clumsy,” she said, her voice dripping with fake remorse.

Her words sounded apologetic, but her expression was anything but. She smirked at me, a look of triumph dancing in her eyes as if daring me to react. I clenched my fists, anger boiling up inside me as I watched her pretend to be innocent.