I looked at the mess of food scattered across the floor and felt like a clown in a tragedy of my own making.

I pulled out my phone and texted the doctor:

*[I'm coming in for the abortion today.]*

The doctor replied instantly, urging me to reconsider. But the image of Thomas and Hazel kissing in the emergency room lobby burned in my mind.

I shook my head, my resolve hardening into ice.

Thomas once claimed he despised public displays of affection. At our wedding, he hadn't even kissed the bride. Yet for Hazel, he was willing to shatter every principle he claimed to hold.

My father had been a cheater. I would not let my child have one, too.

Climbing onto the operating table, my limbs felt heavy, as if filled with lead. When I climbed down, my womb was empty.

"Elise? What are you doing coming out of Obstetrics and Gynecology?"

I froze. Thomas was standing there, eyeing the department sign suspiciously.

My stomach churned. I forced a mask of calm onto my face. "Cramps. I was picking up painkillers."

I tried to sidestep him, but he caught my arm, yanking me back. The sudden motion sent a jolt of agony through my abdomen, and I doubled over.

That was when he noticed the blistering skin on the back of my hand. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. He reached out to check it, but I violently shook him off.

"Go keep your Hazel company."

Hearing the sarcasm dripping from the words "your Hazel," Thomas's expression frosted over.

He looked down at me, his gaze imperious. "You know nothing. Hazel's family comes from money. If I mentor her well, my career path clears up significantly. I'm doing this for our family, Elise."

He paused, his lip curling. "And you—making a scene in front of my students. You're lucky Hazel is generous and isn't pressing charges. Come with me. You're going to apologize to her."

A laugh bubbled up in my throat. He was cheating, yet he still managed to package it as a noble sacrifice for his career.

"Then let's divorce. That way, you can't blame me for holding Professor Gilbert back from his promotion."

Thomas stiffened. When the weight of my words settled, he scoffed.

"You want a divorce? Don't joke. Without me, do you really think you'd live this comfortably?"

He pulled out his phone and transferred $100 to my account. The note read: *Buy burn ointment.*