My husband and I spent five years trying to conceive. In the end, we chose IVF. A year of hormone injections and failed attempts didn't just fail to give us a baby; it turned me into a haggard, exhausted shadow of my former self. Then came the day my husband’s personal assistant showed up at our house to pick up his dry cleaning. She looked at me with pure disdain and ordered me around like I was the help. "Can you move a little faster? For a maid, you really have zero awareness. While you're at it, polish the shoes I'm wearing. If you don't, I'll have your boss dock your pay!" I froze, suppressing my rage as I asked her what the hell she meant. Instead of answering, she dialed my husband, Ethan, tears instantly welling up in her eyes. She sobbed into the phone, claiming some "crazy old woman" was bullying her. Ethan rushed home in a fury. He didn't ask for my side of the story; he just started screaming. "Sarah, she was obviously joking! Do you have to be so sensitive?" "Besides, is she wrong? Look at you. You look no different than a homeless woman begging on the street corner." With that, he grabbed his assistant’s hand and stormed out, leaving me standing there. Moments later, a notification popped up on my phone. He had posted a photo of me—looking my absolute worst, swollen from medication and crying—to his Instagram Story. The caption read: “Official Statement: This ugly woman is no longer my wife! She can't even give me a child. As a woman, she’s a total failure. It’s embarrassing. She’s on a three-day timeout. If she doesn't apologize to Chloe by then, I’m filing for divorce!” Chloe, the assistant, was the first to like the post. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Ethan was absolutely certain I would come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. But he was wrong. This time, I didn't want the baby. And I definitely didn't want this dirty man anymore. 1 I was about to like that Instagram story out of spite, but Ethan deleted it seconds later. I didn't care. I picked up the phone and called the fertility clinic. I told the doctor I was terminating the IVF process. The doctor was shocked. "Mrs. Miller, are you sure? We’re at the final stage. The embryo implantation is the last step. Last time you were here, Mr. Miller seemed very eager to have a child..." I rubbed my temples, exhaustion seeping into my bones. "He’s cheating on me. I don't want the child anymore." There was a pause. "I... I’m so sorry to hear that. However, termination requires signatures from both parties to be effective." "No problem," I said. "Send me the forms. I'll make him sign." Just as the email with the PDF landed in my inbox, the front door banged open. Ethan walked in, looking a bit awkward, holding a large shopping bag. "I thought about it, and maybe I was a little harsh earlier. Don't take it to heart. Just apologize to Chloe, and we’ll let this whole thing go." I gave him a cold look, ignored the bag, and turned to head to the bedroom to pack. Ethan’s temper flared. He rushed forward and blocked my path. "What is this attitude? I apologized for my tone! It was clearly your fault, why can't you just lower your head and admit it? With a temper like yours, I worry our kid is going to inherit it!" I smiled bitterly. So, he deleted the post because he remembered I still had "breeding value." I thought back to when we graduated college. We started his business from nothing. One winter, to secure a crucial client who lived in a lakeside villa cut off by a blizzard, I swam across that freezing lake because the roads were blocked. I watched the despair in Ethan's eyes turn to hope as I jumped in. Ice shards cut my stomach. I secured the deal, but I passed out and woke up in the hospital with permanent uterine damage. Back then, Ethan covered my ears, eyes red with tears, and promised me: "It’s okay, Sarah. If we can't have kids, we won't. You suffered so much. Your health is all that matters to me." But I knew how much he wanted a family. Every time we went shopping, he’d linger in the baby aisle, touching the tiny shoes, dreaming of a family of three. That’s why I volunteered for IVF. Even though it was agonizing. Even though the hormones made my hair fall out in clumps and aged me ten years. I endured it all gladly. And his repayment? Letting another woman mock me, scold me, and then demanding I apologize. I snapped back to reality and glared at him through gritted teeth. "Absolutely not." Ethan’s face turned dark instantly. "I'm warning you, Sarah! Don't push your luck!" He took the shopping bag and smashed it into my face. The sharp corner of the packaging cut my forehead. I crouched down in pain, watching the contents spill out. It was chocolate. I picked up the receipt that fell out. It was dated yesterday. I shook my head, looking at the pile of candy I didn't even like. He was just giving me the leftovers someone else didn't want. Ethan’s eyes flashed with a moment of guilt. He bent down to help me up, but then Chloe waltzed in, hips swaying, voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Oh my god, what happened here?" She covered her mouth in mock surprise. "Ethan, isn't that the chocolate you bought with me yesterday? I told you to save me two bars! I know I’m on a diet, but I was craving a little bite!" She turned to me, smiling. "Sarah, aren't you worried about getting fat eating all that?" Then she playfully slapped her own mouth. "Oops! Silly me. Sarah is already upset about being... well, ugly. I shouldn't have brought it up. I deserve to die!" Ethan’s heart melted immediately. He grabbed her hands. "Little dummy, don't hurt yourself. You didn't say anything wrong. Why should we cater to her fragile ego?" He kissed her hands, blowing on them as if they were hurt. A wave of nausea hit me. I remembered my last egg retrieval. The pain was so bad I couldn't walk. Ethan had stood there, arms crossed, sneering. "You're a grown woman, stop acting. It’s just a needle. How much can it hurt?" He hadn't cared about my pale face then. He just drove off, leaving me at the clinic because he "didn't have the patience for my drama." Now, he scooped Chloe up into his arms and walked out without a backward glance at his bleeding wife. "I'm taking Chloe to the doctor to check her hands. You stay home and reflect on your behavior!" 2 I sighed, cleaned up the scattered chocolates, and texted a lawyer about divorce proceedings. I printed two copies of the agreement. Knowing Ethan’s stubbornness, I wasn't sure how to get him to sign. I packed up and went to sleep in the guest room. The next morning, I was woken up by Ethan’s phone call. "Get ready. I'm coming to pick you up." I was confused. "Go where?" "Where do you think? I remembered today is the final IVF appointment! Do you want this kid or not?" I opened my mouth to tell him I definitely didn't, but he hung up. "Garage. Five minutes. Hurry up." I sighed. I didn't even change out of my pajamas. Maybe it was better to do this at the hospital. I got in the car. Ethan frowned at my appearance. "You're going to the hospital dressed like that? People will think you're the cleaning lady, not the patient!" His naked disgust shattered whatever self-esteem I had left. I quit my job to focus on this pregnancy. I took hormones that wrecked my body. I managed his entire life. I didn't have the energy to dress up. Instead of gratitude, I got shame. He tossed a Chanel jacket from the backseat at me. "Put this on." It obviously wasn't my size, nor my style. It smelled like Chloe—that overpowering rose perfume. Nauseous, I put it on. As I did, a sheer lace thong fell out of the pocket. It was damp. Ethan glanced at it, panicked, and snatched it away. "Stop rummaging! Chloe changed in my car after the water park last week and forgot her things." I opened my mouth but said nothing. His acting was pathetic. He never allowed me to leave anything in his precious car. He detailed it daily. Without his permission, Chloe wouldn't dare leave something so intimate behind. We arrived at the clinic. The doctor looked relieved to see us. "Great, you're both here. Just sign the papers and we can proceed." Ethan looked confused. "Proceed? I thought we already agreed on the implantation?" The doctor paused and looked at me. I looked down, trying to find the words. Ethan looked suspicious and grabbed the clipboard. My heart hammered in my chest. Just as he was reading the header—Termination of Treatment—his phone rang with a special, cutesy ringtone. He threw the clipboard down and answered immediately. "What's wrong, princess?" The doctor took the opportunity to whisper to me, "Mrs. Miller, since you're terminating, there's a test result you need to see..." But before she could finish, Ethan grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. "This is all your fault! If anything happens to Chloe, I’m holding you responsible!" 3 I was dragged out of the hospital before I could process what was happening. He drove like a maniac back to our house. As soon as we pulled up, I smelled thick, acrid smoke. Ethan was sweating, panic written all over his face. He threw his shoulder against the front door. "Chloe! Don't be scared! I'm here!" I had a severe phobia of fire from a traumatic incident in my past. My legs turned to jelly. But it was an emergency, so I tried to help him with the door. Ethan shoved me away. "Get the hell out of my way! If she hadn't been trying to make soup for you to help your health, this fire wouldn't have happened! You jinx!" I laughed in disbelief. She burned my kitchen down, and it was my fault? Ethan kicked the door open and charged into the smoke. The house was ruined. In the kitchen, he found Chloe coughing on the floor. He scooped her up like she was made of glass. "Boohoo, Ethan, I really didn't mean to! Sarah won't be mad at me, will she?" Chloe whimpered, playing the victim perfectly. "Of course not," Ethan soothed her. "It was an accident. I'm here. No one will touch you." The flames were spreading fast. I wanted to tell him we needed to leave now. But Ethan turned to me, eyes red with rage. He grabbed my hair. "Look at what you made her do! Apologize to her! Now!" I choked on the smoke, struggling. "Let... let go! We need to get out!" He didn't listen. "Stop making excuses! You jealous, vicious woman. You deserve to be punished!" I was dizzy from the fumes. Suddenly, a heavy wall cabinet, weakened by the fire, crashed down from above. "Chloe, watch out!" Ethan dove, shielding Chloe with his body. The burning cabinet crashed onto me. A red-hot metal rod pierced my thigh. I screamed in agony. "Ethan! Help me! I'm pinned!" Ethan looked back. His eyes were cold. He picked up Chloe and turned toward the door. "You deserve this," he spat. "Even God can't stand your jealousy." I watched his back disappear into the smoke. My hope died with him. The fire roared around me. I closed my eyes, accepting my fate. If there is a next life, I thought, I never want to meet Ethan Miller again. Just as consciousness slipped away, I heard a voice. Rough, urgent. "Hey! Stay with me! I'm going to get you out!" When I opened my eyes again, I was in a white hospital room. A nurse was adjusting my IV, and a tall man with soot-stained clothes was frowning by the window. "You're finally awake!" the nurse said. "Where is your family? No one has come." My throat felt like sandpaper. "I... I don't know." The tall man stepped forward. "When I went in to get you, your husband was running out with another woman. Did you know that?" I let out a dry laugh. "You saved me? Thank you." "As for him... he only saves the people he cares about. My life means nothing to him." I learned the man was Will, a retired firefighter who lived nearby and saw the smoke. "Take care of yourself," Will said, his expression unreadable, pouring me a glass of water. My heart warmed. A stranger would risk his life for me, but my husband left me to burn. It was time to let go completely. Just as I was asking Will how I could repay him, the door slammed open. Ethan stormed in, face thunderous. "Sarah! Are you playing games with me?" "I went back to save you and you were gone! Do you know how long I looked? And here you are, flirting with some strange man?" I sighed. Before I could speak, he grabbed my wrist, yanking me up. The IV needle ripped out of my hand. I cried out in pain. Will stepped between us, shoving Ethan back. "She's a patient! Be careful! Are you even a man?" 4 Ethan’s face turned purple. He swung at Will. "Who the hell are you? This is my wife! Mind your own business!" I saw Will ready to fight back and quickly signaled him to stop. I didn't want him getting hurt or in legal trouble for me. Will backed off, reluctantly. "I'll deal with you later," Ethan sneered at him. He dragged me down the hall to another VIP room. Chloe was there, lying in bed. As soon as she saw me, she shrank into Ethan’s arms, trembling. "Ethan, I'm scared! Sarah is going to yell at me! She's going to ask why I didn't die in the fire!" I was baffled. I was the one with a hole in my leg. Why was she acting like the victim? Ethan threw a report in my face. It was the fire investigation. The cause: an old, faulty gas valve. "You refused to get it fixed! You tried to kill Chloe!" I laughed. It was a hollow, broken sound. When we got married, Ethan promised he’d do all the cooking. Six months in, he got "busy" and dumped it all on me. Because of the IVF side effects, my back pain was severe. I couldn't stand long enough to cook, so I mostly ordered takeout. I rarely used the kitchen. I had no idea about the valve. But in his mind, everything was my fault. "Ethan," I looked him dead in the eye. "Are you really a man? Blaming your wife for your own negligence?" "It's your job to manage the house!" he shouted. How pathetic. Before marriage, I was his princess. Now, I was his scapegoat. I was done. "You want an apology?" I asked. I pulled a stack of papers from my hospital gown pocket—the divorce papers I had prepared. "Sign this, and I'll apologize." Ethan glanced at the top page, saw 'Consent Form' (it was the IVF termination he hadn't read properly earlier, stapled to the divorce papers underneath), and signed it without looking, thinking it was hospital paperwork. He smirked. "You really commit to the drama, don't you? Stop playing the victim." "Kneel and apologize to Chloe! If you do, we move on. If you give her a hard time again, we're getting a divorce!" Hearing the word "divorce," Chloe hid a smirk behind Ethan’s shoulder. I gritted my teeth. I bent my knees. The wound on my thigh tore open. Blood soaked through the bandages instantly. I nearly fainted from the pain. Ethan saw the blood and flinched, reaching out instinctively. "Sarah... you're hurt?" I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me." I finished the "apology," stood up, and limped out. Ethan tried to follow, but Chloe grabbed his arm, wailing, "Ouch! My chest hurts! Ethan, help!" He hesitated for a second, then turned back to her. Back in my room, Will called a nurse to re-dress my wound. After that, Ethan disappeared. I saw on Instagram that he took Chloe to Paris and Iceland. Places he promised to take me for our honeymoon but never did. I moved out. Will helped me pack. I looked at the house where I wasted five years of my life. It felt like a tomb. I sent a photo of the signed divorce papers and the medical report to Ethan. Seconds later, my phone exploded. "Sarah! What is this? When did we get divorced?" "And... what does this medical report mean? I have... low sperm motility? I'm the one who can't have kids? Why didn't you tell me?!"
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