He Scored My Life A 4 And Hers A 10 Chapter 01

He Scored My Life A 4 And Hers A 10 Chapter 01

My husband Derek Sterling was a time-management master. He scored everything in his life.

High score meant high priority. Anything under a five got kicked off the schedule.

My birthday came every year, so he gave it a four.

Then he’d spend the whole night on an eight-point outing with his childhood friend—a movie.

Our wedding was just a formality, so he scored it a five.

I stood at the altar alone for six hours while he finished a nine-point outing with her—an amusement park trip.

Even my prenatal checkups barely earned a six.

They ranked somewhere below helping deliver her dog’s puppies.

I used to believe that if I waited long enough, our marriage would eventually climb the priority ladder.

Then I miscarried after a car accident and needed a family member to sign off on emergency surgery.

Derek answered the phone and said, “Got it. Seven points. I’ll come after I taste Sloane’s new dish.”

The pain in my abdomen went white-hot for a second, then hollow. “I had a miscarriage. The baby isn’t going to make it.”

His voice didn’t waver. “Sloane’s situation is a ten. Highest priority.”

“Just wait. I’ll get there soon.”

So I endured the agony for another half hour. No sign of my husband.

Instead, I saw a post from Sloane Price on Instagram.

[Cut my finger cooking—barely a scratch, already healing—but someone still cleared his whole schedule for me.]

The photo showed Derek bent over her hand, blowing softly on a wound so tiny I couldn’t even see it.

The look on his face cut deeper than the crash ever could.

The scores were just an excuse. The favoritism was the truth.

I was never his priority.

On the gurney, seconds before they wheeled me into the OR, I grabbed the doctor’s arm.

“Don’t try to save the baby.”

This marriage that never made his schedule was over.

I was done trying to save it too.

***

When I came to after surgery, the other side of the bed was already cold.

I called my divorce attorney. By the time Derek finally showed up, hours had passed.

I stared at the soup stain on his collar and said quietly, “The baby’s gone.”

His eyes swept over the paperwork on the nightstand. He frowned.

Finally, he spat out one word.

“Four.”

I froze.

“What?”

Derek checked his watch and looked at me like I was a child throwing a tantrum.

“When you called, the situation was a seven. But the baby’s already gone, so the priority drops.”

“It’s been three hours since you got out of surgery. You should’ve had someone reach out to me and re-score it instead of dragging me down here for a four-point issue.”

“My time is limited. You’re pushing out things that actually matter.”

His tone was matter-of-fact. I could only stare in disbelief.

What could possibly matter more than losing our child? Sloane’s scratched finger? A home-cooked dish?

I hurled my phone onto the bed. The screen lit up with seven Instagram posts Sloane had made over the past five hours.

Him bandaging her hand. Seasoning her food. Fixing her sink. Brushing her dog’s teeth.

Every single one of those trivial things had ranked above me and our baby.

“So these are the important things that made you five hours late?”

Derek glanced at the screen. He didn’t deny it.

“You’re looking at this too narrowly. Different circumstances call for different priorities.”

“You’re in a hospital with doctors and nurses around you. Sloane was home alone. If I didn’t help, anything could’ve happened.”

“Besides, you know I value efficiency. Handling tasks in the same area at the same time saves effort.”

The flimsy explanation landed in my chest like acid.

Efficiency?

I had scheduled my prenatal checkup right after his business meeting for that exact reason.

The office and the hospital were barely a mile apart. It should’ve been convenient.

Two hundred yards from the hospital, he took Sloane’s call.

A trivial dish-tasting request, and he scored it a nine without hesitation.

Then he pulled over and kicked me out of the car, rushing ten miles to her place.

Those last two hundred yards, a car ran a red light and plowed into me.

I miscarried on the pavement.

Derek had been gone for exactly five minutes. He couldn’t even be bothered to turn around.

Instead, he took five hours to show up and turned what should’ve been a joyful checkup into the last time I’d ever see my baby alive.

The hole in my chest gaped open, cold air rushing through.

I was done freezing for this man.

I forced a bitter smile and stopped Derek as he turned to leave.

“I won’t waste your trip. You like efficiency, so do one last thing for me.”

“Handle it here, and I’ll never bother you again.”

He paused and glanced at his watch.

“You have five minutes.”

“Plenty. My lawyer’s on his way up with divorce papers.”

Derek frowned at me for a beat, then let out a cold laugh.

“You’re threatening divorce to get me to break my system? I don’t have time for games.”

“One point. Removed from my schedule.”

He walked out without looking back, brushing past my attorney at the door.

I didn’t take the documents the lawyer held out. I just closed my eyes, exhausted.

If he could dismiss our marriage with a single score, then I could finally kick him out of my life too.

“I’ll take this to court.”