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515words2026-01-26 11:23

After eight years of marriage, my wife finally got pregnant.
I bought every parenting books I could find and spent my weekends building a nursery with my own hands.
I'd lie awake at night, dreaming about our beautiful future—the three of us, a real family.

But that dream didn't last long, it was shattered—by my wife herself.
She told me her first love, Jake Miller, was in liver failure. She'd already terminated the pregnancy so she could be his donor.
I looked at the little wooden rocking horse I'd just finished sanding. And I felt like the world's biggest fool.
“Jake has liver failure and needs a transplant. I was a match, so I took care of it today.”
“The doctors said pregnant women can't be donors, so I terminated the pregnancy today.”
I just stared at Lily, waiting for the punchline—for her to say she was joking.

But her cold expression was ice. And I knew how she'd always been about Jake.
She wasn't asking for my opinion. She was telling me what she'd already done.
I said, my voice shaking. “Lily, we've been married for eight years. This was our first baby—we've been hoping for this for so long.”
“I built all this... because I thought you wanted it too. I thought we were in this together.”

“And my mother—you know how sick she is. All she wanted to see her grandchild before she passes—you know that.”
Lily let out a short, cold laugh. “A born child is a child. What I carried was just a cluster of cells—not a real life.”
“How can you compare that to Jake's life? And don't use your mother as a guilt trip. She'll be fine. Jake is actually sick.”
“David, I never knew you could be so selfish and cold. I guess I was wrong about you all these years.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She was acting like I was the villain.
“You killed our child, and you have the nerve to call me selfish?”
“Lily, I'm not even mad about you helping Jake. I'm mad you didn't talk to me first. You didn't give me a chance to get tested, or to help find another donor.”
“Liver matches aren't that rare. We could've looked for other options.”
“Did you even think about me—about us—when you made that choice?”
“What do I even mean to you?”
My voice cracked. I was choking on the loss—of the child I'd already loved, and the wife I thought I knew.
Lily showed no remorse. “David, you always say you love me, but if you really loved me, you'd understand why I have to do this.”
“Even though I married you, Jake was my first love. He's everything I ever dreamed love would be.”
“But don't think you got nothing. You had me. You got to experience real love. That's more than most people ever get.”
Hearing that, after almost a decade together—something in me just broke.
In that moment, every bit of warmth I ever felt for her froze solid.
I was done—done forgiving, done excusing.