Gave My Baby To His Mistress

The clock struck midnight, the chimes echoing through the hollow silence of the house. Finally, the sound of a key turning in the lock drifted from the foyer. I stayed curled on the velvet sofa, my eyes fixed on the black void of the television screen until his shadowbroad and smelling of the biting night airfiltered into the room.

"Here." He slid his phone onto the coffee table, face up. His thumb brushed the edge of the device in a restless, unconscious rhythm. "The passcode is the same as always." Without another word, he headed for the master bath. The aggressive hiss of the shower soon filled the void left in the living room.

I stared at the glowing lock screen, a bitter laugh bubbling up in my throat. What was I even looking for? The chat logs would be scrubbed clean, as if by a surgical eraser. The bank statements would show nothing but the usualcoffee shops near his office, gas stations, dry cleaning. His call history was probably as precise and sterile as a punch-clock.

He emerged through a cloud of steam, a towel slung low around his hips. He draped himself over the back of the sofa, smelling of sandalwood and damp heat, and pulled me into a half-embrace. "See? I told you there was nothing," he murmured, his chin tucking into the crook of my neck. His voice held that practiced, soothing lilt. "Stop living in your head, Natalie."

I pulled away, dodging his kiss, but my eyes caught our reflection in the darkened window. There, on the side of his neck, was a faint, jagged red marka blooming hickey that stood out like a fresh wound against his damp skin.

My nails dug into the palms of my hands. I slowly reached up and unpeeled his arms from my waist. My voice felt eerily steady, as if I were merely commenting on the weather.

"Colby, I want a divorce."

This one-sided war of shadows, this game of digital espionageI was done playing.

The air in the room seemed to freeze.

A moment later, a sharp, crystalline sound shattered the silence.

Colby had knocked the vase off the side table. It was a simple ceramic piece wed bought at IKEA during our first year of marriage when we were living in a cramped one-bedroom apartment. Wed carried it with us as we moved to the penthouse, and eventually, to this sprawling estate. We used to call it our lucky charm, a witness to every stumble and triumph wed shared over the last seven years.

Now, it lay in a hundred jagged white teeth across the hardwood.

It was a perfect metaphor for us. Shattered. Beyond repair. No amount of glue could ever make it what it was before.

I pulled my gaze away from the wreckage and looked directly at Colby. "Ive already had a lawyer draft the papers. You just need to sign"

"I cut my hand, Natalie." He cut me off, his voice tight.

I blinked, looking down. A shard of the vase had sliced across his palm. Thick, crimson drops were already beginning to splatter onto the floor, staining the rug.

"Nat, help me with this," he rasped.

He rarely showed weakness. But I knew this move. This was his favorite tactic for a ceasefire. If I followed the script, I would get the first-aid kit, clean the wound, and by the time the bandage was set, we would be "fine" again. We would be back to the status quo of his lies and my silence.

This time, I didn't move. I looked at the blood with total indifference.

"Its just a scratch," I said. "There are Band-Aids in the kitchen. You can manage."

I paused, steering the conversation back to the cliff's edge. "Once youve cleaned yourself up, sign the papers."

Colbys expression darkened instantly. "Natalie, for God's sake, Im bleeding. How long are you going to keep up this tantrum?"

He sounded genuinely baffled. In his world, his infidelity wasn't a crime; my reaction to it was the inconvenience. Hed deleted the incriminating texts. Hed changed his passcodes to my birthday. In his mind, he had done the work. He had "fixed" it. He couldn't understand why I was still holding the grudge.

I instinctively rubbed the jagged scar on my own wrist, saying nothing.

Right then, his phone chimed. That specific ringtonethe one that had haunted my nights for the past year. He used to tell me it was the emergency line for the firm. Id believed him, right up until the day of his birthday. I had been at the grocery store, standing in front of the seafood counter, debating between the sea bass he loved or the ribeye he craved. Id looked up and seen him in the next aisle, his arm draped possessively around another woman as they picked out snacks together.

The realization had been a slow-motion car crash.

The woman was Gillian. His "childhood best friend." The girl he grew up with, the one hed always mentioned in passing as being "like a sister."

Maybe because wed already had the screaming matches and the tearful confessions, Colby didn't even try to hide it this time. He answered the phone right in front of me. "Im on my way. Wait for me."

He hung up, grabbed his keys, and didn't even glance at his bleeding hand. As he reached the foyer, he turned back, his eyes swimming with a strange, heavy disappointment.

"You used to be different, Natalie," he said.

Different? You mean I used to give you my heart on a silver platter just so you could carve it up?

I had stayed for ten years because I couldn't imagine a life without him. And more importantly, because at the time of the discovery, I was pregnant. I had choked down the pain and chosen to forgive him. He had promised me distance. He had promised me a fresh start.

And the result?

I touched the scar on my wrist againthe physical proof of my own stupidity. It felt like an open wound, oozing with a pain that made it hard to draw a full breath.

The front door slammed shut. Bang.

He was going to her. Again.

I stared at the closed door and felt my lips curl into a ghost of a smile.

"Goodbye, Colby."

Thirty minutes later, Gillian posted to her private Instagram storythe one she knew I could see through a burner account.

He told me Im the only one who actually cares about him. He told me never to leave.

The photo showed the back of Colbys head as he rested it in her lap, their fingers tightly interlaced.

Less than an hour ago, he had told me I could trust him. I suppose "trust" in his vocabulary meant believing that his late nights with Gillian were just "supporting a friend." It meant believing that when they spent the night in a hotel together, they were just "reminiscing about the old days."

A few minutes later, the post vanished. She always did thatdeleting the evidence to make me feel like a paranoid lunatic, like I was hallucinating my own betrayal.

Then came the text message.

Nat, Im so sorry. Colby is just in a really bad place tonight and needed a drink. Please don't overthink this. Its not worth ruining your marriage over someone like me.

Don't overthink it.

I looked at those words and felt a cold, hysterical laugh rise up. I remembered being eight months pregnant, showing Colby a screenshot of Gillian's posts, and he had used the exact same line.

"We grew up together, Nat! She moved back to the States after years abroad and she has no one. Am I supposed to just abandon my oldest friend? Youre just bored sitting at home with the pregnancy. Youre overthinking things."

When he saw how pale Id turned, how I had to grip the table to keep from collapsing under the weight of my belly, his tone had softened. Hed pulled me into his arms, stroking my stomach.

"Do it for the baby, okay? Trust me. Stop stressing yourself out."

Hed wiped my tears, acting the part of the long-suffering husband. To prove his "devotion," he had deleted her number in front of me. He had changed all his passwords to my birthday.

Ten years of history. Seven years of marriage. A child on the way.

I had been desperate to save us. I had gritted my teeth and decided to believe his lies one more time.

But then...

Less than a month later, I went into premature labor. I was alone in the hospital, drowning in the news that our daughter hadn't survived the birth. I needed him. I needed him to hold me while the world ended.

But Gillian had called. She had a "stomach ache." And Colby had left.

I had snapped. I remember grabbing a paring knife from the fruit basket by my bed, my voice a ragged, broken whisper. "If you walk out that door, Colby, we are done. I mean it. If you choose her now, there is no coming back."

He had looked at me with pure disgust, as if I were a monster. "Stop being dramatic, Natalie. Youre in a hospital. The doctors said youre stable. Gillian is alone and her health has always been fragile. I have to go. Don't make this about you."

He hadn't looked back.

As the door clicked shut, the knife slipped. It sliced deep into my wrist, leaving a jagged, ugly reminder of the moment I realized I was truly alone.

A vibration from my phone pulled me back to the present. A voice memo from Colby. He sounded drunk.

"Nat... stop being mad. Lets just... let's try again. Lets have another baby, okay?"

A baby?

I touched my stomach. The phantom pain of the loss was so sharp I nearly doubled over. Even after all the numbness, the mention of a child felt like a hand squeezing my heart until it stopped.

I waited until the shaking stopped. I wiped the last tear from my cheek and blocked both of themColby and Gillian.

Then, I dialed a long-distance number I hadn't called in years.

"Mom? I'm coming home. I'll see you at the airport in three days."

Colby didn't come home for the next few days.

I didn't ask where he was. I just started packing. It was harder than I expected; seven years leaves deep roots. Every object seemed to hold a ghost of him.

There was the white cashmere scarf hed given me on our first date. Id kept it for years, even after it started to fray, because hed told me he worked overtime for a month just to afford it. There were the little handmade trinkets from our early years, the things hed stayed up late to make because we couldn't afford "real" gifts. I had kept them in the safe like they were diamonds.

As his career took off, the gifts got more expensive. Id cherished those too, seeing them as milestones of our shared success.

But everything changed two years ago, when Gillian moved back.

The vanity became crowded with designer jewelry I never asked for. The closet filled up with haute couture from every season. Million-dollar necklaces, custom gownsthey weren't gifts of love anymore. They were "hush jewelry." Bribes to compensate for the nights I spent dining alone.

I walked past them all. I didn't want the bribes. I only packed what was truly mine.

The day I finished, Colby finally showed up. He saw the suitcase by the door and his brow furrowed.

"Where are you going this time?"

He still thought this was a game. He thought I was just "running away" to stay at a hotel for a night to make him grovel.

"I just need some air," I said, keeping my eyes down.

He didn't notice the finality in my voice. Instead, he stepped close and wrapped his arms around me. "Nat, Ive been waiting to hear from you for days."

Waiting? I remembered the hundreds of texts Id sent in the past, begging him to come home, only to be met with cold silence or a dismissive "I'm busy."

He took my face in his hands, looking at me with an intensity that felt like a lie. "If you had just asked me to come home, I would have. But you didn't."

He sounded almost accusatory. As if I were the one who had spent the week in another woman's bed.

I didn't argue. I just let a small, tight smile touch my lips. He took it as a sign of forgiveness and kissed my forehead.

"I knew it. Youre not like your mother, Natalie."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

He knew my history. He knew my father was a cheating, abusive shadow of a man who nearly destroyed us. He knew that if my mother hadn't been incredibly brave and incredibly tough, she wouldn't have survived. She had to flee the country just to build a life worth living.

And here he was, using her struggle as a weapon to praise my "compliance."

He saw the flash of pain in my eyes and tried to backtrack. "Sorry, Nat. I just meant... you don't have to make things hard on yourself like she did. You have me. Youre safe here."

"Am I?" I looked him dead in the eye.

He seemed to flinch for a split second, but he brushed it off. "Of course. Just trust me like you used to."

I felt a cold sneer forming in my soul, but I kept my face neutral. My phone buzzed.

"My car is here," I said quietly. "Go do whatever it is you do, Colby."

"Fine." He actually looked relieved. He walked me to the door like a doting husband.

Before I stepped out, I turned back. "Colby?"

"Yeah?"

"Goodbye."

It was a finality he wasn't equipped to understand. He just reached out and ruffled my hair, grinning. "Go get some sun. Relax. Ill stay here, work hard, and keep making the money that keeps you in this beautiful life."

I didn't say another word. I took one last look at the man I had loved for a decade and got into the car.

I was halfway to the airport when my phone began to vibrate violently. It was an unknown number. I ignored it, assuming it was a telemarketer, but as I went to clear the notification, an anonymous text popped up.

Natalie, your baby didn't die. Colby lied to you.