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“Wait… you knew?”
“I found out last night. But please don't tell my mom. It would destroy her.”
“You can't hide it forever. What are you going to do, fake a pregnancy?”
“I'll tell her gently. She needs time. Just please keep it quiet for now.”
My cousin continued, “My friend told me the guy Lily's donating to had a girlfriend who was also a match.”
“But she refused to donate—said it was too risky—and dumped him right after.”
“His family's been trashing her all over the hospital, calling her selfish.”
“Someone asked why his parents don't donate—family matches are better. They went dead slient.”
“If his own family and girlfriend won't help, why is Lily playing the hero? She terminated a wanted pregnancy for this? Is she insane?”
“David, you've put up with a lot. You know how she treats you. I'll say no more—just think carefully about what you want.”
After that call, my resolve to divorce Lily solidified into something unshakable.
Two weeks passed since I asked for the divorce.
Lily hadn't contacted me once. Like she'd vanished.
Then she posted on social media, “Surgery was a success. Now a part of me will always be with you.”
Someone commented, “I thought you were pregnant? Did you have the baby already?”
Lilys public reply made my blood run cold, “Not a birth. I lost the baby. I donated part of my liver to save a life.”
My stomach dropped. I called her immediately—but before I could dial, my aunt called.
“David, get to Third Hospital now! Your mother collapsed!”
My mom had seen the post.
She has a weak heart—the shock made her collapse.
Luckily, my aunt was there and got her to the hospital.
When I arrived, my mom was still in treatment. The doctor handed me a bill.
But when I went to pay, I discovered our joint account was empty .Over $25,000, gone.
I knew instantly—Lily had taken it.
I tried calling her. No answer.
Her post was tagged at Third Hospital. I went to the front desk, my voice tight. "I need the room number for Lily Smith. She's a patient here."
