The Wife He Forgot to Love Chapter 03

The Wife He Forgot to Love Chapter 03

I didn’t reply.

A week later, I went back for my follow-up alone.

On the ultrasound screen, that tiny flicker of life was gone.

The doctor said, “The embryo has stopped developing. I recommend a D&C procedure as soon as possible.”

I nodded, signed the consent forms, and scheduled the surgery.

Just then, my phone rang.

The doctor kindly handed it to me, and I answered on reflex.

The hospital’s ambient noise came through the receiver before my voice did.

Ethan seemed to pause on the other end. “Eve? Why are you at the hospital?”

Before I could tell the doctor to hold on, it was too late.

“Ms. Nightingale, your D&C—”

“You’re sick?” he asked, frowning.

I listened, and felt an overwhelming exhaustion wash over me.

“I was pregnant, Ethan.”

The noise on his end suddenly cut out, replaced by the roar of the stadium crowd.

I didn’t know how he reacted. And I didn’t care anymore.

“Seven weeks,” I added.

His voice faltered, sounding lost and disoriented. “You—why didn’t you tell me?”

“Did you ever have time to listen?”

I gripped the pen in my hand and signed my name on the surgical consent form.

“How’s the World Cup going? Did your team and Vivian’s win?” I asked.

He was quiet for a moment. “Eve, it’s not what you think.

He and I are just—”

“Just what?” I cut him off.

“Just old friends? Just work partners? Ethan, you defied your family for her, you stepped in to save her game, you went to her club at 3 AM, and now you’re watching the World Cup with her.”

“Is all of that just ‘nothing’?” I’d never spoken to him with such sharpness before.

He fell silent, then finally spoke. “Eve, come home first. Just take care of the baby, okay?”

I handed the surgery consent form to the doctor.

“Home? Ethan, has there always been a third person’s shadow in our home?”

I looked up at the World Cup broadcast on the hospital hallway TV. The atmosphere was electric. I could picture Vivian happily hanging onto his arm.

He remembered all of her preferences, but couldn’t even ask how I was feeling.

“Ethan,” I took a deep breath, feeling a dull ache in my lower belly.

“If today, Vivian and I both needed you—who would you choose?”

The moment I asked, I regretted it.

The answer was already crystal clear.

Ethan’s tone carried a hint of impatience.

“Eve, don’t be unreasonable. You know how much Viv loves this team, how long she’s wanted to see a match in person.”

Viv.

It rolled off his tongue so naturally.

I was trembling with anger, and the cramping in my lower abdomen grew sharper.

I looked him straight in the eye, enunciating every word: “So your choice is her, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer.

I hung up and let the nurse lead me to the changing room.

I didn’t shed a single tear.

Not until I was lying on the operating table, and the anesthesia mask came down—

Only then did I realize Ethan didn’t even know we had already lost our baby.

When I came to, the smell of antiseptic filled my nose.

All I could see was the stark white hospital ceiling. An IV dripped into my hand.

A clear, sharp pain radiated from my lower abdomen.

I turned my head and saw Ethan sitting on the chair beside the bed, head in his hands, his posture looking strangely hunched.

His suit was wrinkled—the same one he’d been wearing when I’d seen him.

He heard me stir and immediately looked up.

His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw covered in stubble. I’d never seen him so undone.

“Eve…” His voice was hoarse, tentative.

“How are you feeling?”

I didn’t answer. Just stared at him with hollow eyes.

I didn’t have the energy to ask how he’d found out. I just turned my head away.

The doctor came in for rounds. “Good, you’re awake.”

“The surgery went well. But your health was already compromised, and your emotional state made things worse.”

“After this, natural conception may be more difficult going forward.”

I lowered my gaze and stared blankly at the blanket.

Ethan’s face turned even paler. His fingers tightened, knuckles white.

The doctor gave a few more instructions and left.

The room fell silent again between us.

The silence weighed like thick sludge, almost suffocating.

“The baby’s gone,” I said.

My voice was so calm it surprised even me.