He Chose Her, So I Choose Me.

I pushed my exhausted body up and down the hospital halls.

What should've been a two-hour checkup stretched into an entire morning, thanks to the endless lines.

By the time I was done, even one more step made my feet ache.

Outside the hospital, I flagged down a random cab.

Half-asleep in the backseat, my phone suddenly chimed. It was a Facebook friend request.

Verification message: [Denise, Jason's ex. Can we talk?]

My heart skipped a beat. Sleep vanished. I accepted uneasily.

Almost immediately, she sent a photo.

I opened it.

Jason sat by a hospital bed, gently feeding a little girl. His expression was soft and indulgent.

The girl held a helium balloon, smiling at him with absolute joy.

She looked familiar.

I dug through my memory.

Last year, on a typical weekend, we'd driven out to a little-known spot for a change of pace.

After sightseeing, it was nearly noon. We decided to eat at his mother's house nearby. She had guests. A petite, sweet-faced woman sat on the couch with a toddler—maybe two years old—chatting with his mother.

The moment their eyes met, Jason froze. His breathing turned erratic, color draining from his face. Something was off.

It wasn't until I yelped from the pain of his tight grip that he snapped out of it, only to turn and walk out.

I awkwardly greeted everyone and chased after him.

We didn't stay for lunch that day.

He locked himself in the study, chain-smoked all afternoon.

I was still processing it when another message came through: [Please. Give Alison her father. A daughter needs her dad to grow up healthy.]

I stared, stunned. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't misreading it.

And then, I laughed bitterly.

[Are you sure you didn't send that to the wrong person?]

My fingers trembled as I typed, barely restraining the urge to curse her out.

[Sorry, I'm not the one you should ask. Try checking with Jason, see if he has a hobby of raising other people's kids.]

I had never met anyone so shameless. Trying to break up a family to complete her own? Her only confidence came from their years of history.

She didn't reply. I, on the other hand, was dead tired.

I took a screenshot and sent it to Jason. I ignored the calls he made after that, then collapsed into bed.

Some time later—how long, I couldn't say—I vaguely felt someone pull a blanket over me.

I opened my eyes.

Jason had come back.

I turned away, eyes shut tight, ignoring him.

He leaned over, gently massaging my scalp, but his tone was rushed.

"Becca, I called you several times. You didn't answer. Ruby's phone is out of service. I rushed to the hospital but couldn't find you—thought I'd lose my mind."

He paused, then took my arm and started rubbing it, voice softening.

"Becca, I'm sorry I'm late. You must be exhausted. I got your favorite snacks. Stopped by the import store too—got you imported milk powder and prenatal vitamins. A peace offering from your apologetic husband."

Normally I loved his pampering. But today, it only irritated me.

Seeing me silent, his anxiety deepened.

"Babe, are you mad at me?" he asked, flustered. "Please listen—it was only because of Denise's mom, Kate, that I went. When they were drawing Alison's blood, Denise fainted from exhaustion. I couldn't just leave..."

"You couldn't call Kate or Denise's dad? It's okay to bother me, but not them?"

I couldn't hold it in anymore. My voice cracked.

"Don't you think this is absurd? Denise's daughter gets sick, and instead of telling her husband, she begs you! And you—your own wife is at her first prenatal exam, and you leave to be with your ex. An entire morning, Jason! You two looked more like a family today than we ever did. Me and the baby—we're the outsiders!"

The more I spoke, the more the emotions surged.

My chest heaved with each wave, and before I knew it, I was crying.

Jason had rarely seen me like this.

Panicked, he brushed away my tears and held me tight.

"Becca, please don't cry. It hurts me to see you like this. Kate has high blood pressure. I was worried she'd get too stressed if I called her. I only thought of her. I didn't consider how you'd feel. That's on me. I won't go if Denise ever calls again. I promise. How about this—I'll block her. And you delete her too, okay? Will that make you feel better?"