Abandoned Wife: I Fly Out of His Life

Elizabeth's POV

One day, I found a lipstick in Jonathan's car.

It was absurd because I stopped wearing lipstick after I got pregnant.

I was preparing some soup in the kitchen when Quinn came over to "apologize".

Tears streaked down her face as she blubbered, "I'm the one who left the lipstick in the car, Liz. But there's nothing going on between Mr. Myers and me. Please don't misunderstand…"

I chose to believe Quinn at the time. Or more accurately, I forced myself to believe her words.

I was unemployed and six months pregnant. I didn't have anywhere else to go.

A person could think clearly only while they still had the privilege of choice. When they were totally out of options, they could only pretend to be oblivious.

Jonathan shot a nonchalant smile at me when he came home.

"See? I already told you that nothing was going on. Quinn's just too kind. She was worried that you would overthink, so she insisted on meeting you to explain the situation."

He walked over to me and hugged me from behind, hooking his chin on my shoulder.

"Stop acting this way, honey. You weren't like this in the past."

The past?

I was Elizabeth Barry in the past, not "Mrs. Myers".

My world consisted of operating tables, refugee camps, and people who were waiting for me to save them.

I didn't prepare soup in the kitchen while waiting for a man to come home. I wouldn't lose sleep over a tube of lipstick.

My life became stagnant after I got married. My world shrank until I only moved within two miles of my home. I only traveled between my home, the grocery store, and the hospital for my prenatal check-ups.

Meanwhile, Jonathan's business improved by the day, which also meant that he needed to meet more clients.

Quinn was promoted from his assistant to his special assistant. She then became his business partner until eventually, she became the only woman who was always by his side.

During an annual meeting, a woman discreetly pulled me aside and whispered, "Aren't you going to do something, Mrs. Myers? Quinn's stuck to Mr. Myers' side like a leech every day. Rumors are spreading throughout the entire company."

I looked at Jonathan and Quinn, who were standing a distance away, clinking glasses with each other. I smiled and said, "Let them spread."

The woman was stunned. She probably didn't expect me to respond that way.

However, what the woman didn't know was that I had investigated Jonathan and Quinn some time ago.

Jonathan's name was on the deed of the apartment unit that Quinn was living in.

Jonathan and I had bought that unit two months after we got married.

On the day we registered our marriage, he had awkwardly pulled out a prenuptial agreement, saying, "Mom wants us to sign this. If we don't, she won't approve of our marriage."

He told me that the agreement was the compromise that he and his mother, Jasmine Hart, had reached after a long discussion.

However, he also promised to hand over every single cent he made to me after we got married.

I penned my signature on the so-called prenuptial agreement with my hands that only knew how to save other people.

I had no idea that on the other side of the paper wasn't the law but human nature.

Thinking back on it, the agreement couldn't stop Jonathan from purchasing property or funding another person's lifestyle. It only served to stop me from intervening.

…

One day, when I was three months pregnant, I was throwing up terribly.

Jonathan put on his coat and left the house after he received a call. He only came back in the middle of the night, reeking of alcohol and perfume.

When I asked him where he had gone, he calmly answered, "Quinn had too much to drink. I went to pick her up."

When I remained silent, he added, "Don't overthink this. She's all by herself in Cliffton. She has no one to rely on. I can't just leave her to fend for herself."

So, Quinn was all alone and had no one to rely on.

"But what about me?" I thought to myself. "I'm pregnant with your child. I have to watch over this empty house by myself while waiting till the wee hours of the morning for you to come home. Did I not matter?"

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