Her Pain, His Blindness

Her Pain, His Blindness

Gavin

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A sharp, stabbing pain woke me. 3:17 AM. Alone. I reached for my husband, Mark, but he wasn' t there. My desperate call for help was answered by Lily, his goddaughter, her voice laced with annoyance. "Mark is busy. Eleanor isn' t feeling well, so he's here with me." I tried to explain about the emergency, the searing pain in my abdomen. She dismissed it as drama and hung up. Abandoned, I crawled to the phone and dialed 911, whispering, "I think I'm dying." At the hospital, the doctor' s grim face confirmed my worst fear: a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. I was bleeding internally and needed emergency surgery. Alone, I signed the consent form, my hand trembling, tears blurring Sarah Miller into a solitary figure. When I reached Mark hours later, fresh out of surgery and groggy from anesthesia, his words were cold, clipped. "What is it now, Sarah?" Before I could explain, Lily's frantic voice in the background cut me off. "Mark, come quick! Mom\'s monitor is beeping again!" He hung up, choosing her over me, over our lost baby, over my near-death experience. The love I thought was unbreakable shattered into a million pieces. The next morning, lying in the hospital bed, a cold, hard clarity settled over me. I had to make him understand. I sent him my medical reports, hoping the undeniable proof would cut through his blindness. His reply, however, sealed my fate: "Sarah, this has gone too far. Using a fake medical report to guilt-trip me is a new low." He called me manipulative, a liar. He chose her over me, again. The fight drained out of me. I typed one word: "Okay." It was over. I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that I was done.

Introduction

A sharp, stabbing pain woke me.

3:17 AM. Alone.

I reached for my husband, Mark, but he wasn' t there.

My desperate call for help was answered by Lily, his goddaughter, her voice laced with annoyance.

"Mark is busy. Eleanor isn' t feeling well, so he's here with me."

I tried to explain about the emergency, the searing pain in my abdomen.

She dismissed it as drama and hung up.

Abandoned, I crawled to the phone and dialed 911, whispering, "I think I'm dying."

At the hospital, the doctor' s grim face confirmed my worst fear: a ruptured ectopic pregnancy.

I was bleeding internally and needed emergency surgery.

Alone, I signed the consent form, my hand trembling, tears blurring Sarah Miller into a solitary figure.

When I reached Mark hours later, fresh out of surgery and groggy from anesthesia, his words were cold, clipped.

"What is it now, Sarah?"

Before I could explain, Lily's frantic voice in the background cut me off.

"Mark, come quick! Mom\'s monitor is beeping again!"

He hung up, choosing her over me, over our lost baby, over my near-death experience.

The love I thought was unbreakable shattered into a million pieces.

The next morning, lying in the hospital bed, a cold, hard clarity settled over me.

I had to make him understand.

I sent him my medical reports, hoping the undeniable proof would cut through his blindness.

His reply, however, sealed my fate: "Sarah, this has gone too far. Using a fake medical report to guilt-trip me is a new low."

He called me manipulative, a liar. He chose her over me, again.

The fight drained out of me.

I typed one word: "Okay."

It was over.

I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that I was done.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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