My Husband Chose His Mistress Over Our Baby

Three weeks after I found them in my bed, I was alone in the apartment on a Tuesday night.

Rowen was working late. That's what he said. I didn't ask where.

I was heating up soup on the stove when the first cramp hit. Not a kick. Not the baby moving. A cramp. Low and sharp and wrong.

I turned off the burner. I put my hand on the counter. I waited.

It came again. Harder this time. A twisting pull that made me gasp.

Then something warm ran down my legs.

I looked down. Water. Clear at first. Then pink. Then red.

I couldn't breathe.

I stumbled to the bathroom. My legs were shaking. The cramping was constant now. Wave after wave. I gripped the edge of the sink and tried to think.

Eight months. Not yet. Not now. Too early.

I fumbled for my phone in my pocket. My hands were wet. I almost dropped it.

I called Rowen.

It rang twice. Three times. Four.

Then he picked up.

'Hey,' he said. His voice was distant. Distracted.

'Rowen—' My voice cracked. 'Rowen, something's wrong. My water broke. I'm bleeding. I need—'

'Wait, what?' he said. 'Slow down. What's happening?'

'My water broke,' I said again. I was shaking so hard I could barely hold the phone. 'I'm bleeding. The baby—Rowen, I think the baby's coming. I need you to—'

'Okay, okay,' he said. 'Just—hold on a second.'

Then I heard her voice in the background.

Cassandra.

'Rowen, it hurts,' she whimpered. 'It's bleeding so much. I think I need stitches.'

'I know, I know,' Rowen said. His voice was soft. Soothing. The voice he used to use with me. 'Let me see it. Okay. It's not that bad. We'll wrap it up.'

'Rowen,' I said. My voice was louder now. Desperate. 'Rowen, are you listening to me? I need you. The baby—'

'Scarlet, just—just call 911 or something,' he said quickly. 'I can't leave right now. Cassandra cut her finger really bad. There's blood everywhere. I need to get her to urgent care.'

I stopped breathing.

'What?' I whispered.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I'll come as soon as I can. Just call an ambulance. They'll get you to the hospital faster than I can anyway. I'll meet you there. I promise.'

Another cramp hit. I doubled over. The phone slipped in my hand.

'Rowen, please—'

'I have to go,' he said. 'Call 911. I'll be there soon.'

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone. At the black screen. At my own reflection in the glass.

Then I screamed.

I screamed his name into the empty bathroom. Into the dead phone. Into the air.

No one answered.

I called 911. My voice didn't sound like mine. I gave them the address. I told them I was eight months pregnant. I told them I was bleeding. I told them to hurry.

The dispatcher asked me questions. I answered. I don't remember what I said.

The cramping got worse. I couldn't stand anymore. I slid down to the floor. The tile was cold. I pressed my back against the bathtub and pulled my knees up as much as I could.

I put my hand on my belly. The baby wasn't moving.

'Please,' I whispered. 'Please, baby. Please hold on.'

I gripped the edge of the sink above me. The porcelain bit into my palm. I held on so hard I felt something split. Warm blood ran down my wrist.

I didn't let go.

Time stopped making sense. The cramping came in waves. I heard sirens. I heard pounding on the front door. I heard men's voices shouting.

I couldn't move. I couldn't get up. I couldn't unlock the door.

They broke it down.

Footsteps in the hall. In the bedroom. Then the bathroom door opened.

Two paramedics. A man and a woman. They knelt beside me. They asked me questions. They touched my belly. They put something under me. They said words I didn't understand.

The woman looked at the man. Her face changed.

'We need to move now,' she said.

They lifted me onto a stretcher. The lights in the hallway were too bright. The elevator was too slow. The ambulance was too loud.

Somewhere between the apartment and the hospital, the cramping stopped.

The baby stopped.

Everything stopped.

When they wheeled me into the emergency room, a doctor pressed a stethoscope to my belly. She moved it around. She pressed harder. She looked at a nurse.

'Page OB,' she said quietly. 'And get me an ultrasound. Now.'

I stared at the ceiling. At the fluorescent lights. At the white tiles.

I still had my phone in my hand.

Rowen never called back.