The doctor sighed, giving me one last look before nodding. I was wheeled into the operating room, the cold sterile lights overhead blurring as the anesthesia took hold. When it was done, I felt hollow, like a part of me was missing.
As I left the hospital, still weak and pale, a furious voice cut through the cold night air.
“Jane! Stop right there!”
I turned around, my heart sinking as I met Mark’s furious gaze. His face was dark with rage, his eyes burning with an intensity that made my skin crawl. He stormed toward me, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like he was ready to snap.
"Get in the car, Jane," he growled through gritted teeth.
Before I could react, his hand clamped around my wrist and he dragged me to the car, shoving me inside with a force that made my body ache. My breath hitched as I struggled to free myself, but his grip was unrelenting. He slammed the car door shut, locking it as he rounded the car, his eyes never leaving me.
Once inside, he turned to me, his face red with anger, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His voice, when he spoke, was low but sharp, like a blade slicing through the thick silence between us.
"Who gave you permission to abort the baby, Jane?"
His question, filled with venom, cut through me. His voice dripped with outrage, as if he were the victim in all of this, as if he hadn’t betrayed me first. My stomach churned with a mix of anger and exhaustion.
"Who gave me permission?" I repeated, my voice trembling but defiant. "Who gave you permission to cheat on me? Who gave you the right to break our marriage and still expect me to carry your child?"
Mark’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "I’m your husband. I have every right to question you."
"Husband?" I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "Is that what you call yourself? A husband? You've been parading around with that girl and you expect me to stay here and play the doting wife?"
His anger flared again, but before he could respond, my hand brushed against something in the car seat. I looked down and felt my stomach drop. There, hidden between the cracks of the leather, were a condom wrapper and a pair of false eyelashes. My hand shook as I picked them up, the weight of the betrayal crashing down on me like a tidal wave.