Divorcing My Attempted Murderer

Mag and I were more than just best friends; we were sisters by choice. We had walked into the Whitman family together, marrying brothers in a joint ceremony that felt like a fairytale, and by some miracle of timing, we both fell pregnant within weeks of each other.

Mags husband, Derek, was a rising star in the local police departmentbrave, handsome, and dedicated. I had married Simon, a brilliant orthopedic surgeon with hands that could mend shattered bones.

On our first wedding anniversary, I went to the medical center to pick up our prenatal screening reports. On the way back, the world splintered. A massive collision turned my car into a cage of twisted metal.

Mag had been with me but had stepped out just minutes before to grab us a couple of iced lattes. She was the lucky one; she missed the impact by a heartbeat.

The aftermath was a blur of red. I was hemorrhaging, the lower half of my body soaked in a terrifying warmth as I lay on the asphalt, the life draining out of me. My face went ghost-white as the realization set in.

With trembling fingers, I reached for my phone and dialed Simon. I needed him. I needed my husband, the doctor. He declined the call. Twice. On the third attempt, he finally picked up.

His voice was a jagged edge of impatience. "Jane, can you stop for once? You just had your checkup this morning, I know youre fine. Dont waste hospital resources on your drama. Lucy is here; she sliced her wrist open trying to fix a pipe at her place, and Im right in the middle of cleaning the wound. Stop bothering me!"

He didn't wait for a reply. The line went dead.

In the end, it was Mag who saved me. She came running back, lattes forgotten, screaming for help as she saw me in the wreckage. She called Derek, sobbing, begging him to get an ambulance and find the hit-and-run driver.

Dereks response was a bucket of ice water. "Do you have any idea what the penalty is for filing a false police report, Mag? Enough. Im at Lucys helping her with a plumbing emergency. Stop wasting my time!"

The bystanders were too shocked by the carnage to move. Mag, eight months pregnant and terrified, didn't wait. She dragged me. She literally hauled me toward the hospital, fueled by a desperation that defied physics.

Because of that grueling journey, she lost her baby.

After the emergency surgery, she insisted on being my blood donor. When I finally woke up and saw her pale, hollowed-out face, we didn't need words. We looked at each other and shared a bitter, broken smile.

"Mag," I whispered. "Im divorcing him."

"Me too," she said.

The moment I woke up and found my resolve, I sent Simon a one-sentence text: I want a divorce.

The phone that he had ignored during my dying moments suddenly rang within seconds. It was a miracle. When I pressed 'accept,' his voice exploded in my ear, thick with fury.

"Jane! Just because I won't indulge your tantrums, you're jumping straight to divorce? The baby was fine this morning. Youre telling me you had a miscarriage right after I hung up? Do you think I'm an idiot? Do you think this is a game?"

"I have a job to do! I save lives, Jane. I don't play house. It just so happens that today, my patient was Lucy!"

"Use your head! She cut her wrist. Do you know how easily that can turn into a fatal hemorrhage? That is a human life!"

"My child and this marriage aren't bargaining chips for you to use when you're feeling insecure. Stop trying to compete for my attention like we're in some twisted drama!"

He slammed the phone down before I could even draw a breath to speak. My hand, still connected to an IV drip, fell weakly to the bedsheet.

Three years of dating. One year of marriage. A baby we had almost met. I never imagined it would all end because of Lucy Fontainethe girl who had haunted our marriage under the guise of being his "childhood best friend."

I remembered seeing her at the hospital earlier that morning. Shed seen me struggling with my bags and offered to call me an Uber. I hadn't thought twice about it. Id even thanked her for being kind.

But the ride had been wrong from the start. A sudden, violent swerve into oncoming traffic, and then the world exploded as a semi-truck plowed into the passenger side where I sat. The driver had walked away with a few scratches and fled the scene, leaving me to bleed out in the middle of the road.

I had never been so scared. Scared of dying, but even more scared for the life inside me. I had cried, I had begged, and my husband had hung up on me three times.

Usually, he answered even when he was in clinic because he was paranoid about the pregnancy. But today, when the nightmare was real, I only got a cold text: [In clinic. Do not disturb.]

I knew Lucy was his "patient" because Id seen her name on the triage screen before I left. Through the tears and the pain, I had tried one last time.

When he finally answered, I could feel the life slipping away. I could barely find my voice. "Simon... there was an accident... outside the hospital... please, help me... the baby..."

I could feel the heat of the blood. It was everywhere. There was a long silence on the other end, punctuated by Lucys soft, melodic giggle in the background.

Ten seconds. It felt like a century. Finally, Simon spoke.

"Im finishing Lucys bandages. Being a doctor means prioritizing injuries, Jane. Can you please stop being so manipulative?"

He hung up, protecting his time with her like it was sacred. Since when did a minor laceration require a top-tier surgeon to do the bandaging personally?

The physical agony went numb, replaced by a cold, hollow realization. A bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat, mixing with the salt of my tears.

At the moment I was ready to give up, Mag had appeared. She had seen the texts. She had heard his voice. She had grabbed my phone and screamed into a voice note:

"You don't deserve to be a father! Go to hell! You and your 'precious' Lucy deserve each other. Don't you dare ever show your face to Jane again!"

Mag saved me. But the cost was her own son.

Now, she sat by my bed. Her surgery was over, but she looked like a ghost of herself. Her lips were trembling, and her face was drained of all color. Her tears splashed onto my hand, heavy with a guilt she didn't deserve.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "If I hadn't been so selfish... if I hadn't wanted that coffee... I should have been in the car with you. I should have protected you."

I reached out to her, my heart breaking for her more than for myself. Before I could speak, her husband Derek called. She put it on speaker.

"Did you just scream at my brother?" Dereks voice was sharp, accusatory. "What is wrong with you, Mag? Hes a doctor; he doesn't choose his patients. Stop letting your delusional friend brainwash you."

"And a miscarriage? Really? Thats the lie youre going with? You were eight months along, Mag. You don't just 'have a miscarriage.' You couldn't lose that baby if you ran a marathon. Its pathetic."

"If I wasn't busy fixing Lucys plumbing, Id come over there and give you both a reality check. You don't throw around the word 'divorce' unless you mean it. You want out? Fine. Lets do it. See who blinks first."

He hung up.

Mag stared at the black screen for a long time. I looked at her, seeing my own reflection in her shattered eyes. "Its over, Mag. Maybe the universe is telling us that these men were never ours to keep. Youve lost so much blood... you need to rest. Your health is the only thing that matters now."

We clung to each other, two broken women in a sterile room, letting out the screams we had kept muffled for years. Our devotion had been a weapon, and in the end, it had pierced us both through the heart.

Looking back, the end was written into the beginning. Simon had insisted on getting married on Lucys birthday. It was a petty, transparent move to get a reaction out of her after shed moved away.

The Whitman brothers hadn't married us for love; they had married us to fill a void Lucy left behind. We were placeholders. Trophies to show her what she was missing.

And we were fools. We believed them when they said she was just "like a sister." We even followed their instructions to post our wedding photos on Instagram, making sure the privacy settings were adjusted so that only Lucy could see how "happy" they were.

Even now, even though we were literally in the hospital where Simon worked, he couldn't be bothered to type my name into the patient registry to see if I was telling the truth.

Trust wasn't just broken; it had never existed. I realized that too late. And the price was far too high.

I lay in bed, scrolling through social media. Predictably, Lucy had already posted her "victory" lap.

It was a photo of the three of themSimon, Derek, and Lucygrinning. There was a picture of a fixed pipe and a shot of her wrist, wrapped in a perfect, surgical bandage tied with a literal bow.

Caption: [So grateful for my guys. Friendship really is thicker than blood. Another one for our book of memories! #TrioForLife #Blessed]

I took a shaky breath and showed it to Mag. She looked at it for two seconds before let out a dry, mocking laugh.

"Threes a crowd, right? I guess their 'special memories' don't include the two wives they left bleeding in the street." She wiped her eyes. "When we divorce them, theyre going to need a custom-made bed for the three of them, aren't they?"

Lucy had cross-posted to every platform. The comments were nauseating.

[Id kill for one guy like that, and you have two?]

[Tell me your secrets! I must have been a villain in a past life, because youre clearly the main character.]

My throat felt like it was filled with glass. I couldn't even cry anymore.

"It doesn't matter," I said, my voice rasping. "I'm calling the lawyer. Were drafting the papers today."

I had the documents printed and sent to the hospital. I asked a nurse I knew to hand-deliver Simons copy to his office. I sent Mags copy via courier to Dereks precinct.

The tracking showed they were delivered and signed for. Twenty-four hours passed. Silence.

Four years of our lives didn't even warrant a phone call in return. The bitterness settled into my bones as the sun began to set. Eventually, I lost my patience and called Simon.

It rang for a long time before he picked up. Before I could say a word, he snapped.

"What now? I haven't even finished with you yet, and youre calling me? Why the hell did you send those papers to my office? Do you want the whole hospital to know youre having a jealous meltdown?"

I sighed, a deep, weary sound. "If you had bothered to ask the nurse who delivered them, Simon, you would have known Ive been a patient here for two days. You would have known about the surgery."

He didn't listen. He wasn't even focused. In the background, I heard Lucys playful voice.

"Adrian! This lipstick you bought me is gorgeous! I love it so much, can I get the red one too?"

Simon quickly covered the receiver, but it was too late. I let out a cold laugh.

"I see why you haven't had time to sign. You're busy. I won't keep you."

"Wait!" he shouted, sensing I was about to hang up. "Don't start this again! I'm only doing this because I didn't want you to overthink things. Im with my brother! He was fixing her plumbing, and shes just thanking us with dinner. Are you really this paranoid?"

"Shes a single woman living alone; she can't even change a pipe without calling my husband? And youre calling me immature? Im exhausted, Simon. Youre telling me Im 'corrupting' Mag? Derek is just as much of a coward as you are."

His voice rose to a roar. "Youre acting like a child! Grow up!"

Then, Lucys voice drifted in again, sweet and poisonous. "Don't be mad, Simon. Pregnancy hormones make women so sensitive. I only learned to be independent because I had no one to lean on. I wish I could be a soft little girl like Jane, but I have to be strong."

Simons voice softened instantly as he spoke to her. "Its okay, Lucy. If you ever need anything, you just text me. Ill be there in a heartbeat. Weve known each other forever; don't let outsiders get to you."

Outsiders.

The word hit me like a physical blow. Four years. A child. And I was the "outsider."

I hung up. I didn't say goodbye. I just sat there, shaking, as the reality finally, fully sank in. Mag saw me spiraling and grabbed my hand.

"Don't cry for that piece of trash," she hissed. "Ive already texted Derek. The second were discharged, were going to the courthouse. No more excuses."

We spent two weeks in the hospital. In those fourteen days, neither of them called. Neither of them came by the house to see why we weren't there.

Our hearts, already shattered, turned to stone in the face of their indifference. We got our answer when Lucy posted a new album.

Dozens of photos from a spontaneous beach trip. They looked like a happy, sun-drenched family. The contrast to our sterile hospital room was violent.

The caption read: [Always remember, we are family by choice, not by blood. Forever.]

I looked at Simons beaming face in the photos and felt... nothing. The love had finally died. I sent him a final text.

Im out of the hospital. Meet us at the courthouse tomorrow morning. Tell Derek to be there too.

He tried to call immediately. I blocked him.

Mag and I checked out of the hospital together. Our first stop wasn't home; it was the police station to report the hit-and-run from two weeks ago.

When we explained the situation, the officer behind the desk frowned. "Its been two weeks? Why are you just now reporting this? The trail is cold, ma'am."

I looked him in the eye, my voice steady. "My husband is a surgeon who told me I was 'faking it.' My friends husband is a detective who told her the same. Weve been in surgery and recovery. We had no one else."

The officers expression shifted to one of deep, simmering anger on our behalf. "I see. Well do our best."

Mag and I moved into the small apartment Id owned before the wedding. We were weak, our bodies still healing, but we managed.

Simon finally realized he was blocked and called me from Dereks phone. His voice was a thunderclap of rage.

"Where the hell are you? The house is a mess! Youre pregnant, Jane, you shouldn't be running around. Hasn't two weeks been enough time for you to calm down? How long is this act going to last?"

"And even if youre mad at me, why are you dragging Mag into this? She and Derek were fine until you started this 'divorce' nonsense! How can you be so toxic? Youre so miserable that you have to ruin everyone elses happiness?"

Mag snatched the phone from my hand.

"You're the toxic one, you prick! Being married to you was the biggest mistake of our lives. Tell Derek: if he isn't at the courthouse tomorrow, hes a dead man. Were done. Were making room for you and your 'sister' to finally be the happy family you want."

She hung up and blocked that number, too.

The next morning, we were the first ones at the courthouse. But we weren't met by the brothers. We were met by Lucy.

She was dressed in a soft, white sundress, her eyes red and watery. She walked up to us, looking like a wounded bird.

"Im so sorry," she whispered. "I came to apologize for them. I know youve misunderstood everything. Its not what it looks like."

"The trip... it was a promise we made five years ago. I wasn't there to finish it then, so we did it now. I told them to check on you before we left, I had no idea they hadn't messaged..."

Even now, she was marking her territory. Five years ago. Longer than you.

Mags grip on my hand tightened until it hurt. I looked Lucy up and down and gave her a thin, lethal smile.

"Is that so? Tell me, Lucy, did you give them permission to get divorced today? Are they allowed to be here?"

"Or are you here to sign for them?"

Lucys phone buzzed in her hand. Her eyes flickered, and suddenly, she lunged toward me.

It was a clumsy, obvious move. Instinctively, I put my hands out to push her away. Lucy collapsed onto the sidewalk, her palms scraping against the concrete, a tiny bead of blood appearing.

I reached out to help her, confused, but then I heard a roar from across the parking lot.

JANE! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

Simon was charging toward us. Before I could process it, he shoved me aside with enough force to send me crashing into Mag.

He didn't check on me. He went straight to Lucy, cradling her "injured" hand. Only then did he look at meand his eyes dropped to my stomach.

The color drained from his face. "Where... where is the baby, Jane?"

Derek was walking up behind him, phone to his ear, looking distracted. "Listen, I can't do this today. The precinct just called. Someone reported a major hit-and-run from two weeks agotheyre calling it attempted murder. I have to go."

Then he looked at Mag. He looked at her flat stomach. He stopped dead. His phone slipped from his hand, the screen shattering on the pavement.

"What's going on? Mag? Honey, what happened?"