My Husband Said He Gifted Me a Child, So I Gifted Him a Exit

With only three days left before I was gone for good, my phone buzzed with a text from a friend of mine who's a pediatric neurologist.

She told me a world-renowned specialist in infant neurological disorders—the very one I'd asked her to keep an eye out for—was in New York for a conference, and he had a last-minute opening.

Liam had mentioned offhand that the baby had been having these strange, inconsolable crying fits. Their pediatrician brushed it off as colic, but with my medical background, I couldn't accept such a quick dismissal. That's why I'd asked my friend to keep an eye out.

I wasn't doing it for them; I was doing it for an innocent child. It felt like the only decent thing to do, so I sent the specialist's info to Liam.

But when Chloe found out I'd suggested a specialist, she exploded.

She stormed up to me, her eyes bloodshot. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you saying there's something wrong with my son?!"

I tried to explain calmly, "Chloe, I just heard he wasn't feeling well, and a top specialist happens to be in town today—"

"Shut up!" Chloe cut me off, her voice laced with venom. "You'd love it if there was something wrong with my son, wouldn't you? Mind your own damn business!"

Before I could get another word out, she snatched a crystal ashtray off the table and hurled it at me.

"A top specialist?" she sneered, her face twisted in rage. "Save your phony concern! I've already taken Finnian to the best pediatrician on Park Avenue, and he said Finnian is perfectly healthy! What's your game? Are you trying to hurt my son?!"

When Liam found out what had happened, he said nothing. He just silently cleaned up the shards of glass from the floor. Clearly, he was on her side.

I understood. No matter what I did, it was wrong. No matter how hard I tried, I could never measure up to Chloe.

I pushed down the sting of hurt and forced myself to speak calmly. "Fine. If you don't need my help, then forget it."

Soon, it was the day of the baby's christening. It was also the day of my final departure.

I didn't go. My phone had been buzzing nonstop since morning.

Texts from Liam.

At first, he just asked where I was, saying the ceremony was about to start.

When I didn't answer, his tone shifted, growing impatient, edged with a panic he couldn't quite hide.

"Ava, don't do this. I know you're hurting. Once the christening is over, we'll go back to how we were together. Just like before, okay?"

Just like before?

Reading that, the tears I'd been holding back finally broke free, streaming down my face.

It was impossible. We were impossible. We could never go back.

There was no 'us' anymore.

I wiped my eyes, grabbed my suitcase, and took one last look at the city that held so many of our memories.

Meanwhile, at the church.

The event was even grander than my own wedding to Liam. At the main entrance stood a giant, framed portrait of their family of three.

Without me.

Liam stood beside Chloe, a tightness around his eyes betraying his anxiety. He kept glancing at his phone, then toward the church entrance, waiting.

Guests whispered among themselves, their eyes shifting between Liam and Chloe, who was holding the baby. They sensed something was wrong.

Just then, the priest, Father O'Connor, walked calmly to the front of the altar.

He began to speak, his voice echoing gently through the sanctuary.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the house of the Lord to celebrate the baptism of this child, a precious gift from God."

"In this solemn moment, we witness this child joining the family of Christ."

"Now, will the parents of this child please come to the altar to receive God's blessing?"

The air in the church grew thick with tension.

All eyes were fixed on Liam and Chloe, but Liam was frozen to the spot, his face growing paler by the second.

Just as he was about to grit his teeth and step forward with Chloe, the heavy church doors were thrown open. The family's old butler rushed in, breathless and frantic.

He pushed past the stunned guests, heading straight for Liam. "Mr. Grant!" he stammered, his voice trembling. "It's terrible! I was tidying the master suite… I found this in your nightstand!"

The butler held a trembling hand high for all to see. In it was a stack of papers: the signed divorce forms.

The blood drained from Liam's face. He was seized by a raw, absolute panic.