Not only was my body hurting, but my heart was aching too. When I first got married, I thought I was the luckiest woman in the world. On my wedding night, Lyle hugged me and told me he would make me happy for the rest of my life.
But this was what we had become after only two years of marriage. In fact, it didn’t take two years. He started to cheat one year ago, yet he had the audacity to hit me while I was lying in the hospital bed covered in blood.
Tears began rolling down my cheeks. I poured out my grievances and dissatisfaction, but Lyle was not willing to let me off. He held me by my throat as his face contorted in anger. By then, the hospital bedsheet was soaked with blood.
“So you really had an affair with Christopher! I’m going to kill you, Yvonne.”
That’s men. They don’t allow their women to be close to the opposite sex even when they themselves have cheated and committed adultery.
My vision began to blur as air rushed out of my lungs, and my firm grip on Lyle’s hand loosened. I gazed up at his handsome face, but somehow, it looked malicious and repulsive to me.
We had been friends since childhood before we became romantically involved. At that time, I was very fond of Lyle and loved to look at him because his smile was as bright as the sun. Just seeing his heartwarming smile made me feel better whenever I was upset.
But now, his face seemed strangely unfamiliar. With my last ounce of strength, I struggled to ask, “Lyle, we’ve been married for two years. Have you ever loved me?”
“No. And I never will!” Lyle answered without hesitation.
I smiled bitterly. So what we had in the past few years was all a joke, and it was a mockery of my ignorance. Because of that, I was consumed by the desire to have my revenge. I figured whatever happened between Christopher and me would serve as that, so I began to indulge in the thoughts of my “sweet” revenge.
I honestly thought that Lyle would really kill me then and there. Fortunately, a nurse came in to check on me at that time. And since Lyle didn’t want to have blood on his hands, he decided to let go of his grip on my throat.
Once his hand left my throat, I fell back limply on the bed and gasped for air. When the nurse came to my side, she pulled the blanket aside and let out a terrified scream when she saw the blood-covered sheets. She immediately called in a group of nurses and doctors.
Everyone tacitly ignored the raw handprints on my neck and tried their best to treat me. After all, it was my private matter, and they weren’t going to intervene.
Lyle was shocked when he saw the large amount of blood that had pooled on the white bedsheet, standing rooted to his spot behind the nurses and doctors. After a while, he came forward to ask if I was in any pain. I shifted my gaze away from him and ignored him entirely.
He seemed to be more horrified than guilty. It was obvious that he was afraid of killing me accidentally and becoming the talk of the town. Instantly, the sense of guilt that I had when we were talking about my affair with Christopher disappeared into thin air.
I asked the doctor, “What about the baby that I miscarried?”
The doctor replied sympathetically, “The fetus was only two months old, so it’s an early pregnancy loss. Give yourself half a year to recover before you try to get pregnant again.”
I let out a scornful laugh, then pointed in Lyle’s direction and said, “If the fetal tissue has not been disposed of, then please collect some tissue sample and arrange for a paternity test with my husband.”
Although I wasn’t sure who the father of the unborn child was, I knew that Lyle would never agree to such a ridiculous request in front of so many strangers. If he were to agree to the paternity test, that would indicate that he had been cuckolded.
Sure enough, his face smoothed out as he leaned forward and said in a soft tone, “Let’s stop fighting, Eve. I only said those things in a moment of anger. Let’s not talk about that anymore. You should rest well and focus on recuperating.”
