Tears pricked the corners of my lifeless eyes, slipping down in silent, mingling with the blood that had already sealed my fate.
Just as he was about to cross a line he couldn’t return from, Peter gently nudged Millie aside with his elbow.
He took a few hurried steps to the sink, splashing cold water over his face, letting it trickle down as he clenched his fists. He twisted his arm inward, gripping it tightly in a visible attempt to regain composure.
Millie, her eyes glistening with tears, wrapped herself around his waist from behind, her voice a broken whisper.
“Peter, why won’t you… Do you think I’m filthy?”
Peter whirled around, his breathing still heavy with frustration.
“How could I ever think that?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m carrying so much right now, Millie. Just give me some time. I’ll make sure you’re never seen as just a mistress.”
Peter tenderly brushed her hair back from her forehead and pulled her close, his lips trailing soft kisses across her face.
Millie’s smile turned cold as her gaze shifted to where I lingered, her expression daring me to react, triumphant in her perceived victory.
I could only stare, feeling a rising sense of disbelief.
So, in Peter’s mind, I was a burden, a responsibility he had to bear. But to him, Millie was someone precious, someone he had to shield from any pain.
It was tragic, really. Millie hadn’t even spared herself any pain; she was her own worst tormentor.
From the moment she discovered I was Peter’s wife, she began her subtle, cruel taunts. Every time I came to the hospital for my prenatal checkups, she would find a reason to be there.
She would don his pristine white coat, wield his favorite fountain pen and always call him Peter with such sweetness that could turn stomachs, making sure everyone within earshot was fully aware of their closeness.
Once, I had gone for a routine ultrasound and Millie had taken it upon herself to pose as the technician. I felt sharp discomfort as she carelessly used an unlubricated probe, which left me with inflammation and almost caused a miscarriage.
Furious, I filed a formal complaint with the hospital, hoping for justice.
But without concrete evidence, it was deemed “iatrogenic” and I was left without any recourse.
Rather than sympathy, Peter saw me as a jealous woman bent on creating trouble. His annoyance was palpable.