Ten years into our marriage, I got into a car accident on the way to yet another prenatal appointment my husband had forgotten. As I lay bleeding, I called him for help, but he just brushed me off, annoyed: "If you're not dead, go to the hospital. I'm busy." The next second, I saw my husband, sitting in the passenger seat of the car that hit me, hang up my call. He turned to the woman in his arms, his voice full of tenderness, and said to his young secretary: "Don't worry, I'm here." He calmly left the scene with her, leaving me alone in a pool of blood. In that moment, it finally hit me. My marriage had been crumbling for a long time. Ten years of love had turned into nothing. 1. The doctor handed me the miscarriage papers, sighing softly. "Ms. Thompson, you just had a miscarriage. You need to rest." Then, he looked at me with a hint of discomfort. "We contacted Mr. Davis, but he said…" The doctor avoided my eyes, his voice barely above a whisper: "He said, 'If she's not dead, tell her to get back here and make dinner.'" I took the papers, smiling through my tears as I stroked the image of my baby. Just hours before, I'd been dreaming about the day my child would call me "Mom." Now, I'd never get to hold my little one. As soon as I walked through the door, Mark greeted me with an angry glare. "Did you tell the hospital to call me?" I didn't say anything, just sat down wearily on the couch. Seeing my silence, Mark frowned. "Sarah, do you know how busy I am?" "Lily's puppy needs to be neutered tomorrow, and the vet still hasn't confirmed the appointment. Do you know how stressed I am? Can't you be more mature and stop bothering me?" I looked at Mark's anxious expression and then down at the scrapes on my knees. Apparently, my life and my baby's were worth less than Lily's dog. Mark kept complaining, each word like a knife stabbing into my heart. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. "Mark," I said. "Do you know that I almost died in the hospital just now?" He looked annoyed at my interruption, his eyes shifting to my flat stomach, his tone dismissive. "You weren't even showing. A little fender-bender isn't going to kill you." I stared at Mark, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. He didn't even know how far along I was. What he thought was "not showing" was actually the aftermath of losing our baby. Mark was about to say something else, but he caught sight of the cuts on my wrist and instinctively grabbed my hand. "What happened to your hand?" I used to cherish my hands. Mark always complimented them. But then, he decided he wanted to start his own business, and I started working five jobs to support him. My trendy hair color faded, and my makeup just collected dust on the vanity. I transformed from a young woman into a worn-out housewife. My hands went from delicate to rough and calloused. When Mark landed his first big order, he held my hands against his chest, tears streaming down his face. "Sarah," he choked out, "I'll never let you suffer again. I'll take care of you and make your hands beautiful again." His passionate words had burned away my last doubts. I followed him without regrets, but it had all led to this. I was about to speak when his phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, Mark quickly dropped my hand. His worried expression vanished, replaced by pure adoration. My heart twisted as I watched the love in his eyes. There was a time when Mark used to look at me that way, whispering sweet nothings on the phone. But now, he made no attempt to hide his affection for someone else. Tears welled up as I stared at him. In that moment, I understood that my marriage wasn't just crumbling. Mark was rotting from the inside out. "Mark, let's get a divorce." 2. Mark blinked, then scoffed. "Sarah, are you kidding me? Is this some new tactic you're trying? Divorce? You can't leave me." He laughed, a sound that mocked the ten years of my youth. I ignored him and texted my lawyer, urging him to hurry. Mark narrowed his eyes. "Alright, quit moping around. You'll scare Lily. She's leaving on a business trip tomorrow. Don't make it difficult for her." I looked at Mark and felt a chill. I'd never been unkind to Lily. Even after I found out about the affair, I tried to salvage what I could of our marriage. But now, they'd put me through hell, taken my baby, and I was being accused of being difficult. Seeing my silence, Mark added: "Where's my medicine?" I glanced toward the kitchen. "It's in there. Get it yourself." A flicker of surprise crossed Mark's face. I used to brew his herbal medicine with my own hands. He wouldn't drink it unless I pleaded with him for hours. He frowned, his tone accusing. "What's with the attitude? I just didn't pick you up from the hospital. Do you have to be so dramatic?" I ignored his anger, focusing on the bloodstained ring on my finger, caressing it as if it were my love from ten years ago. I remembered a broke Mark buying me this ring and the shy look on his face. I almost laughed. Before I could say anything, the doorbell rang. Mark's face lit up as he saw who was calling, quickly pushing me aside. All trace of worry had vanished, replaced by tender affection. It was Lily. She leaned against the doorframe in a revealing lace nightgown, looking innocent and helpless. "Honey, I forgot my keys. Can I crash at your place tonight?" Before I could answer, Mark pulled her into his arms. "You're not dressed warmly enough. I'd hate for you to get sick." Lily snuggled into Mark's embrace, giving me a triumphant look. I found their display tiresome. I hated repeating myself. But I’d been brewing Mark’s medicine for seven years. Mark said he wanted to spend his life with only me. But he was now entertaining a different woman inside of our marriage. 3. Lily snuggled closer to Mark. "Honey, I can only sleep in the master bedroom. Can I sleep there tonight?" Mark looked at me. "Sarah, can you clear out the master bedroom? Lily has a business trip tomorrow and needs to get some rest." I stared at the bed in our master bedroom. The first time Mark brought me here, I was worried my clothes would get the sheets dirty. I stood awkwardly, afraid to sit. But Mark had pulled me down onto the bed and held me close. He said: "Sarah, this is our home now. I'll protect you from the storm." Now, he was asking me to empty our room so he and another woman could nest. I walked into the bedroom and started packing away the remnants of our love. But when I saw the small crib, I burst into tears. Mark and I had picked it out during our first year together. He said that our baby's things deserved to be the best. But now, everything was different. My baby was gone, and the crib was useless. I gathered the love letters and baby clothes, and threw them into a box. When I tried to collect the gifts Mark had given me, I realized that the letters were all he'd ever given me. I looked at the letters and laughed bitterly. My decade of dedication had bought me a few pieces of paper. I removed our framed wedding photo, and threw the letters and clothes into the trash. "What are you doing?" Mark's voice came from behind me. He rushed over and pulled the things out of the trash, looking panicked. "Why are you throwing away my love letters? And this baby outfit! You loved this outfit!" He looked at me with the same anxious expression I'd seen when he’d held out my engagement ring and asked, "Can I have a chance to take care of you?" I'd cried and said, "Yes." Now, I smiled and told him, "Lily won't like them. And besides... " I looked at the baby outfit. "Our baby won't be able to wear it anyway." Mark looked down. He ran his fingers over the yellowed envelope, just as I ran my fingers over the bloodstained ring. After a long pause, Mark released it. The letters and clothes fell back into the trash. He whispered, "Alright. It's not like the love letters are worth anything. And the baby is small. The outfit is too big. We'll buy a new one when she gets here." I touched my stomach, the only place our baby had ever existed. Yeah, the ten-year-old love letters weren't worth anything. Just like Mark's love. 4. After I finished packing, Lily turned to Mark, eyes red. "Honey, I'm hungry. You said Sarah makes the best sweet and sour pork chops. Can I have some tonight?" Mark playfully stroked her nose and gave me a cold look. "Make Lily some sweet and sour pork chops. Quickly." I quietly picked up my suitcase. "I'm not feeling well. I can't." Mark stared at me, shocked. It was the first time I'd refused him. He glared, "Sarah, what are you thinking? I just want you to make dinner for Lily. I'm not trying to divorce you. Can you not be so jealous? You're going to be a mother soon. Can't you be a little more generous?" He sounded like I was a violent criminal. The word "jealous" justified his relationship with Lily, crushing the promises Mark had made to me in our youth. He'd sat on the football field, love sparkling in his eyes. When he'd confessed, I joked: "I have standards. If you ever like another woman, I'll hate you." Mark nervously clutched the roses and said, "If I ever like someone else, punish me by never seeing me again." Sometimes, I wondered if I'd imagined Mark loving me, or if he'd forgotten loving me. But it didn't matter anymore. I calmly said, "Mark, let's get a divorce." Mark looked dismissive. "Still playing games? This isn't how a mother should act. " Anyone could say I was a bad mother, but not Mark. I stared at him, tears burning my eyes. "Do you think you're a good father? If I knew it would come to this, I wish I'd never met you!" Mark paused, looking confused. Then, he frowned. "Why are you so angry? Anyone would think you had a miscarriage. How can you be a good mother acting like this?" An icy chill ran through me. My heart felt like it was trapped in ice. Mark's coldness made me seem like a crazy person. Lily was giggling behind him. I knew that the marriage that had imprisoned me for ten years had come to an end. I smiled at Mark, the same smile I'd had when we first met. "You're right, Mark." Next, there was a loud thud. I slammed the miscarriage papers down on the table.
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