Chapter 3
I turned on my phone and found countless messages and videos from Anna.
[Ariana, you should've seen how worried Jonathan was about me.]
[It was already 11 PM, but he gathered all the top specialists in the city. He'll do anything to save the baby in my belly!]
[Easton too, he's been praying nonstop.]
[He really wants a little sister.]
In the videos, Jonathan looked grave, repeatedly consulting specialists to ensure Anna and her unborn child were safe.
Easton jumped for joy, saying he'd buy his mom delicious food to help her recover.
No one had ever cared about me like that.
During those first two years after the premature birth and hysterectomy, I went to all hospital appointments alone.
Other women visited maternity wards expecting new life.
I was there alone, piecing my broken body back together.
My phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Brayden.
[Ariana, Anna's check-up was clear. You went too far last night. You owe her an apology.]
[Tomorrow is Easton's fifth birthday party. You'll apologize to her publicly then.]
Suppressing my grief, I replied: [Sure. I've prepared special gifts for you and Easton, too.]
That afternoon, I went to the hospital.
First, I used hair Anna had dropped at our home, along with Easton's and Jonathan's, for an urgent paternity test.
When I got the report, I couldn't help but laugh.
Then I tracked down the doctor who performed my induced abortion and hysterectomy.
He denied everything.
After I left the hospital, a young nurse ran after me and handed me a USB drive.
She said, "I'm too scared to report Dr. Hicks. He's morally corrupt, but you can do it."
I thanked her.
Back home, I found exactly what I needed on the drive: transfer records and the doctor's illicit medical logs.
Finally, I printed divorce papers.
After organizing these three items, I mailed them to the hotel hosting tomorrow's birthday party.
Ding!
Another message from Anna.
This time, it was a video of their happy trio at an amusement park.
Easton waved happily on a pirate ship, holding an ice cream.
Anna nestled fearfully yet sweetly in Jonathan's embrace.
Voices of passersby commented.
"Wow, that family ahead is so good-looking!"
"Don't you know that's Jonathan? The young entrepreneur from our city!"
"An entrepreneur who pampers his wife like that? I'm so jealous."
I stayed silent.
I was surprisingly calm.
Easton had always had poor health. I'd never let him eat ice cream. He's thrown countless tantrums with me over this."
He must be thrilled to have it now.
As expected, he'd develop a low fever and diarrhea tonight.
But what did that have to do with me?
I packed and trashed every belonging of mine in the house.
There wasn't much.
The house looked largely unchanged, yet I felt profoundly lighter.
That night, I lay in a hotel bed watching movies.
Jonathan called. "Ariana, where are you?
"Easton has a fever and stomachache. He's crying for you."
I didn't believe it, of course.
Easton's miserable whimpering came through the phone.
He was sobbing and sniffling, totally pitiful. "Daddy, I want to go home! I don't want mom, I want..."
Before he could finish, I ended the call, leaving only dial tone.
He paused, confused.
"Daddy... did she hang up?" Easton asked.
Jonathan, stunned by my hanging up, darkened with anger.
Over the years, I'd managed Easton's meals, clothes, and supplies, even preparing his lunches before dawn for him to take to the office or kindergarten.
When he occasionally fell ill, I was the one caring for him through sleepless nights.
Jonathan had barely lifted a finger.
Anna swiftly poured fuel on the fire.