On Our Fifth Anniversary My Husband Begged Me Not to Leave Chapter 08

On Our Fifth Anniversary My Husband Begged Me Not to Leave Chapter 08

That evening, Ethan walked out of a flower shop holding a bouquet. Tucked away in the center of the flowers was a car key. He stared at the bouquet and wondered—was he spoiling her too much by giving in like this? But then he thought of the look on Stella’s face when she’d receive the flowers, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward against his will.

He pushed open the front door and called out softly. “Stella.”

Silence. It was too quiet. The apartment felt hollow, completely devoid of life. His brow furrowed. He pulled out his phone and dialed her number. “The number you have dialed is currently busy…”

A heavy weight sank in Ethan’s chest.

He walked to the balcony and pulled open the glass door. The balcony was empty. Every single flower Stella had spent five years carefully tending—gone. All that remained were a few bare plant stands, standing there alone, radiating a bleak, hollow chill. Ethan froze. A nameless panic began to rise from somewhere deep inside him.

He strode quickly to the walk-in closet and threw open the door. He stopped dead. All the designer bags he’d given Stella—gone. Her jewelry. Her clothes. All of it had vanished. Ethan’s face went pale. He snatched up his phone and dialed again. Still busy. Again. And again. Nothing changed. There was no doubt now—she’d blocked him.

That sense of dread swelled heavier and heavier, pressing down on his chest until he could barely draw breath. “Stella…” He whispered her name under his breath and rushed toward the bedroom. Every trace of her existence had been wiped clean. It was as though this woman had never once set foot in his life.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught something on the nightstand—several documents, stacked in a neat pile. His heart lurched violently. He walked over and looked down. The top document. Across its cover, a few bold words stared back at him: Divorce Agreement. His breath seized in his throat. Hands trembling, he flipped to the final page. There, in his own handwriting, was his signature.

That day at the hospital—Maren Walsh had told him Stella sent over housing documents. Without even glancing at the contents, he’d signed right away. It was a divorce agreement. Divorce. She was divorcing him. A dull roar filled Ethan’s skull.

Just then, another paper slipped out from beneath the agreement and fluttered to the floor. Ethan bent down and picked it up. In the next second, it was as though lightning had struck him where he stood. It was an ultrasound report. Early pregnancy three weeks. His breathing turned ragged and frantic. Stella was pregnant? When? Why hadn’t anyone told him? A storm of thoughts tore through his mind. But before he could even begin to process them, the last document had already fallen into view. An abortion record.

The world went utterly silent. Ethan stared at those few printed lines, his eyes slowly, terrifyingly turning red. His child. His and Stella’s child. Gone. A child he never even knew existed—already gone. The procedure had been just days ago. And he—he’d been on the phone, demanding to know why she wasn’t home. She had just lost their baby. Ethan stumbled backward a step, the documents scattering from his hands across the floor. His chest felt as though it had been carved wide open. The pain was so raw he couldn’t breathe.

Just then, his phone rang. The caller ID read: Maren Walsh. Ethan stared at the name for what felt like an eternity before he finally pressed answer.

“Dr. Hayes?” The voice on the other end was gentle. “Did you get home safely? The car I picked out—did Stella like it?”

A long, hollow silence stretched out. Then the man’s voice came through, hoarse and broken beyond recognition. “Stella is gone.”

Maren froze on the other end.

Ethan stared down at the papers scattered around his feet. His eyes were bloodshot. “She left. She really left.” His voice cracked. “She doesn’t want me anymore.”

Maren was quiet for a long moment. Then his voice came through, low and careful. “Ethan, what happened? What did you find?”

“She was pregnant,” Ethan choked out. “Three weeks. And she—she terminated it. She didn’t even tell me. I didn’t even know.” His hand tightened around the phone until his knuckles went white. “I was too busy. I was always too busy. I didn’t see it. I didn’t see any of it.”

“You signed the divorce papers, didn’t you?” Maren asked quietly. “Without reading them.”

Ethan didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The silence said everything.

“Ethan, I’ve known Stella for years. She doesn’t make decisions lightly. If she went through with this—the abortion, the divorce, disappearing without a trace—she had her reasons. And from where I’m standing, you gave her plenty of them.”

Ethan’s breath hitched. The words landed like a knife between his ribs.

“I have to find her,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I have to fix this.”

“Some things can’t be fixed, Ethan. Some things can only be regretted.” Maren paused, then added softly, “But if you’re serious—really serious—you need to start by understanding why she left. Not by chasing her. Not by begging. By looking at yourself and seeing what she saw.”

The line went dead.

Ethan stood there in the middle of the empty bedroom, surrounded by scattered papers and silence. The bouquet of flowers still hung limp in his hand. The car key was still tucked inside.

Slowly, he sank to his knees. The flowers fell from his grip. His head dropped forward. And for the first time in years, Ethan Sterling broke down and wept.