I saw it with my own eyes.
Holding my enormous belly in both hands, I watched as my husband kissed another woman on the table in his office. How she smudged his cheeks with lipstick. They were half-undressed… They were already “after”…
And I stand there, dropping a thermos from my hands, while tears roll down my cheeks.
Eight months pregnant. Twelve years of marriage. Two kids at home. And all my life, shattering into pieces in a single second.
Then my body is pierced by hellish, wild pain. Contractions. Premature labor. But I run away, ignoring the cries of the traitor behind me.
And I realize: nothing can be brought back.