No More Second Chances Starting Over Without You

After a grueling natural birth with a severe tear and an episiotomy, I was finally wheeled out of the delivery room. The first thing I saw was my husband’s junior colleague holding my newborn baby. She was leaning against the wall of the maternity corridor, standing incredibly close to my husband, Julian Vance. "Clara, congratulations!" Chloe Miller chirped, looking up at me. "Julian was in such a complete panic. He called me to come help. He said a moment like this really needs another woman around." Julian smiled, his tone light and breezy as he chimed in. "We really have Chloe to thank for this." "I called her the second you went into active labor. Otherwise, I would've been completely lost. Look how great she is with the baby." Before I could even find the strength to speak, the nurse pushing my gurney cleared her throat, asking my family to help move me. Chloe stepped forward to help. In that split second, I noticed a delicate silver band on her right middle finger. It was the exact same design as the engagement ring on my left ring finger. When Julian proposed, he told me these rings were custom-made by a private designer. A one-of-a-kind set. Only two existed in the world. My postpartum contractions were still throbbing, and my lower body felt like it was tearing apart. I reached my arms out, wanting to hold my baby. Chloe instinctively took half a step back, casting a quick, hesitant glance at Julian. Julian patted her shoulder and turned to me. "Don't move, Clara. Just let Chloe hold her. It's not like she's a stranger." I slowly pulled my hands back. I didn't say a word. Only one thought echoed in my mind: I need a divorce. "Let's get her to the recovery room," Julian said, gesturing to Chloe, completely ignoring my gaze. As they walked, he leaned down and whispered something to her. Chloe giggled, pulling the baby slightly closer to her chest. Walking side by side, they looked exactly like a pair of proud new parents walking through the maternity ward. The tearing pain flared up again. I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the handrails of the gurney. Once we reached the room, the nurses and aides worked together to shift me onto the bed. Every slight movement made me break out in a cold sweat. Chloe stood by the window, holding the baby. "She’s so beautiful. She has your eyes, Julian." Her soft voice drifted over from the window. Julian was pulling the privacy curtain back for me, but he turned around the second she spoke, his eyes crinkling with a massive grin. "Right? I think she looks just like me, too." He walked over, leaning in close to Chloe to look at the baby. Their heads were practically touching. Chloe reached out a finger, gently stroking the baby's cheek. That silver ring flashed in the light again. I lay on the bed, feeling like the lower half of my body didn't even belong to me. "Oh, by the way, Clara." Julian suddenly turned to face me. "Chloe loves the baby so much, and she’s been such a huge help. I was thinking of making her the godmother. What do you think?" As he spoke, his hand rested naturally on Chloe's shoulder, his fingers spreading slightly. It was a gesture that carried an unsettling, possessive intimacy. Chloe looked up at me with a faint, sweet smile. "If Clara isn't comfortable with it, it's totally fine," she said. But her eyes weren't on me—they were locked onto Julian. I squeezed the bedsheets, my nails digging into my palms through the cotton fabric. I waited for the lingering wave of contraction pain to subside before forcing the words out of my throat. "That ring on your finger." My gaze locked onto her right middle finger, steady and cold. "Where did you get it?" The smile on Chloe’s face froze for a fraction of a second. She instinctively hid her hand behind her back, remaining silent. Julian spoke up first. "Oh, that?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I noticed Chloe really liked the style of that ring. Since I don't wear mine anymore anyway, I just gave it to her." The engagement ring on my left hand suddenly felt like branding iron. Three years ago, when he got down on one knee, his eyes red as he slid this ring onto my finger, I remembered every single word he said. “I had these custom-designed. There are only two of them in the entire world, Clara. They belong only to us.” Chloe shifted her shoulder slightly, completely hiding her hand beneath the baby's swaddling blanket. She looked up, her expression perfectly natural again, her voice soft. "Don't overthink it, Clara. Julian and I are just close friends. It was just a little gift."I let out a silent, bitter laugh. The inner band of that ring was engraved with Julian’s initials. She wore it on her finger every single day, yet she had the nerve to tell me it was just a "little gift" between friends. I didn't say another word. I closed my eyes, and my mind drifted back to our first year of marriage. Back then, the moment Julian got home from work, the first thing he’d do was hang around the kitchen door to watch me cook. If I didn't let him in, he’d lean against the doorframe, sipping water and telling me about the daily gossip at his office. "Our department hired a new assistant. She went to the same college as me. She’s pretty sharp and has been helping me out a lot," he’d mentioned casually. I hadn't paid much attention to it then. But gradually, this "underclassman" started appearing in his stories more and more. "Chloe helped me organize a presentation today, otherwise I would've been stuck at the office until midnight." "Chloe said there’s a great new Italian place near her apartment. I’ll have to take you there sometime." "It was Chloe’s birthday today. The department got her a cake, she was so happy." It all sounded like normal, everyday chatter. His tone was casual, his expression completely open. I had never suspected a thing. But some things just don't hold up under closer scrutiny. On our wedding anniversary, I had booked a nice restaurant and bought a new dress. Right before clock-out time, he texted me saying he had to work late on an urgent project. I sat in that restaurant alone until nine-thirty, watching the food go completely cold. Only later did I find out that Chloe had a fever that night, and he had rushed her to the hospital. "She’s living alone in the city, Clara. She doesn't have anyone to even bring her a glass of water when she's sick. If I didn't help, who would?" That was Julian's explanation when he got home, his tone laced with a touch of exasperation, as if I was the unreasonable one for being upset. It hurt. But he had said it so earnestly, with absolutely no guilt in his eyes. "We're just colleagues. Don't be paranoid." And I believed him. The little life inside me was conceived that very month. From then on, he started putting his phone face-down more and more. He’d walk out to the balcony to take calls. Every time a Snapchat notification popped up, he’d instinctively glance at me first before picking up his phone. I noticed it all, but I stayed quiet. And then came last night. I was still five days away from my due date, and I had planned to double-check my hospital bag over the weekend. But at eleven in the evening, my water suddenly broke. A warm rush of fluid flowed down my legs, and my hands started shaking in sheer panic. I grabbed my phone and dialed Julian's number. But the voice that answered was a woman’s. "Hello?" Her voice was thick with the lazy, soft drawl of someone who had just been woken up. I froze. The fluid was still leaking, and I had to support myself against the armrest of the couch. I could barely hold the phone. "...I'm looking for Julian." "Oh, he’s driving right now." Her tone was incredibly casual. Then, I heard Julian’s voice in the background: "Who is it?" "Your wife."There was a brief, heavy silence. Then, he took the phone, his voice tense and rushed. "Clara? What's wrong?" "My water broke." "Get home right now." After hanging up, I leaned back against the couch, the contractions starting to hit me in waves. I don't know how much time passed before the front door finally burst open. Julian rushed in, sweat pooling on his forehead, his breathing heavy. And right behind him stood Chloe. She was wearing a camel-colored trench coat, her hair slightly messy. "Don't worry, Clara, we’re going to get you to the hospital right now," she said, stepping forward to help me up. I instinctively shrank back from her touch. Julian didn't notice my reaction. He was too busy grabbing my hospital bag, muttering to himself not to panic. On the way to the hospital, I sat in the back while Chloe took the passenger seat. Julian glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Hang in there, babe. We’re almost there." Then, he turned to the passenger seat. "Chloe, can you input the hospital's address into the GPS for me?" Her phone automatically connected to the car's Bluetooth. I remembered that Bluetooth system. It used to be that only my phone was connected to it. It felt so bizarre. Your husband is driving, another woman is sitting in the passenger seat, and the two of them are working in perfect, silent harmony to get you to the delivery room. While you sit in the back, looking like a hitchhiker who just caught a ride. I snapped out of my memories and opened my eyes. Julian was standing at the foot of my bed, staring at his phone while discussing something with Chloe. "What do you think of Chloë? It means blooming life, and it’s a sweet tribute to Chloe for helping us out today," Julian suggested, his voice soft and testing. He looked up at Julian after saying it. Julian repeated the name a couple of times, his eyes lighting up. "Hey, that’s actually beautiful! Clara, what do you think?" He turned to face me, a wide grin on his face. "Chloë. It sounds so pretty, and the meaning is perfect." He had absolutely no idea what those syllables represented. Chloë. My daughter was going to be permanently branded with another woman’s name. Chloe waited eagerly for my reaction. Just then, a nurse walked in to take my blood pressure, causing the air to fall dead silent for a few seconds. I shifted my weight, leaning back against the pillows to make myself more comfortable, and spoke. "I don't like it." The smile on Julian’s face faltered. "You don't? What's wrong with it?" Chloe also took a small step forward, her lips parting. "Clara, it was just a casual suggestion..." "Sunny," I said, locking my eyes onto Julian. "Her name is Sunny." Julian opened his mouth, a flash of awkwardness crossing his face. He clearly hadn't expected me to shut him down so bluntly. He instinctively glanced at Chloe, who bit her lower lip and turned her face away. "Alright, Sunny is pretty too," Julian muttered, trying to smooth things over. Silence stretched in the room for a few moments. Chloe held the baby a little tighter. I pushed myself up against the headboard. The sharp pain from my stitches made me gasp, and cold sweat immediately beaded on my forehead. "Julian." I gritted my teeth, forcing the words out. "I'm hungry. Go get me something to eat." Julian and Chloe exchanged a quick look. It was the kind of silent communication that only people who had done it a thousand times could pull off. "Let's go. I’ll help you pick something out," Chloe said, walking over to the bed and carefully handing the baby back to me. "Let's go." Julian was already at the door, calling out to her. The sound of their footsteps faded down the hallway. The nurse wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm, starting the machine. As she worked, she struck up a casual conversation. "Was that your husband and his sister earlier? They don't look very alike." I pulled the corners of my mouth into a tight line. "She's not his sister." The nurse's hand paused. She looked up at me but didn't push any further. She finished taking my vitals, jotted down the numbers in her chart, and turned to leave. But right at the doorway, she stopped. "Um, Clara." She took a half-step back inside, lowering her voice. "While you were in the delivery room, I walked past the hallway a few times." She hesitated, seemingly debating whether she should speak. She licked her lips and took a quick glance outside. "Your husband and that girl... they were sitting on the bench talking. I heard them mentioning something about a date."She hadn't caught the specific details of the date, nor did she want to pry, but she was absolutely certain of that word. Someone called her name from the hallway, and she quickly excused herself. The door clicked shut behind her. I held Sunny, looking down at her wrinkled little face. She was fast asleep, her tiny fists clenched tightly near her ears. When the door pushed open again, only Julian walked in. He was carrying a plastic bag containing a tub of takeout oatmeal and two boiled eggs. He tossed the bag onto the nightstand. The plastic hit the surface with a loud, heavy thud. "Eat it while it's hot." He pulled up a chair, crossed his legs, and stared at me. "What was that back there?" His tone had completely shifted. He was a completely different person from the supportive husband he pretended to be outside the delivery room. "Chloe was just trying to be nice and help. You had to go and give her attitude right to her face. Was that really necessary?" I reached for the oatmeal. The plastic container was still burning hot against my fingers. I pulled it closer, refusing to look at him. He leaned forward, his voice dripping with condescension. "Clara, you're a mother now. Can you stop being so childish?" "Chloe ran herself ragged helping us out, and not only did you not say thank you, but you also had to give her that cold shoulder." "What's wrong with her suggesting a name? She only did it because she loves our baby." I set my spoon down and looked up at him. "Julian." "Do you honestly think a mother is supposed to smile and say thank you when she hears another woman trying to name her daughter?" "Or do you think that because I just pushed a baby out, my brain has completely stopped working?" Julian’s face darkened. He stared at me for a few long seconds, his mouth twitching as if he wanted to scream, but he swallowed it down. Then, he stood up, shoving the chair back. The metal legs scraped against the linoleum floor with a screeching sound. "Just eat your food. We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down." He turned to leave, pausing at the door without turning around. "I’ll stay tonight. Get some rest." "Don't bother," I called out to his back. His footsteps paused, but he didn't say anything else. He opened the door and walked out. The door clicked shut, the lock sliding into place. The sound of his footsteps faded down the corridor. I stared at the oatmeal, the steam rising from the bowl making my eyes sting. By evening, the door pushed open again. Julian walked in carrying a fruit basket, the cellophane wrapping rustling loudly. And right behind him was Chloe. Her face wore an expression of cautious apology. The moment she entered, she glanced at me and quickly lowered her head. "Clara." She walked to the bedside, setting the fruit basket on the nightstand, her voice barely a whisper. "About the baby's name... I was out of line. I shouldn't have opened my mouth." As she spoke, she clasped her hands in front of her, using her left hand to completely cover the ring on her right middle finger. "Please don't be mad at me, and please don't fight with Julian because of this." She sounded incredibly sincere. Julian stood behind her, arms crossed, a faint, smug smirk playing on his lips. "See? Chloe came all this way just to apologize to you." "She’s already swallowed her pride. Stop holding a grudge." I looked at Chloe, then turned my eyes to Julian. "Fine. I heard you." Chloe bit her lip, picked up her bag from the chair, and gave me a tight smile. "I’ll head out then. Get some rest, Clara." She walked to the door, casting a parting glance at Julian. "Call me if you need anything, Julian." The door closed. Julian pulled the chair close, sitting right next to me. He looked at me and let out a heavy sigh. "Clara, I get that you're emotional right now." "You just had a baby. Your hormones are all over the place, and it’s easy to let your mind wander." "But Chloe is genuinely a good person. Stop projecting your worst thoughts onto her." He tapped his fingers against his knee, as if keeping rhythm with his own lecture. "Think about how much she's done for us. From the moment you went into labor until now, she hasn't even had a sip of water." "Be realistic. Without her, how on earth would I have managed everything by myself while you were giving birth?" I stared at him in dead silence. "Julian," I finally spoke, my voice completely flat. "Do you honestly think that just because you keep telling me she's a good person, I’m going to play blind?" He blinked, his brows furrowing. "What is that supposed to mean?" "I saw the ring on her finger." I locked my eyes onto his. "That's our engagement ring. The one with your initials engraved on the inside." Julian’s face froze. But he quickly brushed it off, his tone growing impatient. "Are you really bringing that up again? I explained it to you this afternoon." "It's such a trivial thing. You keep harping on it. Don't you get tired of this?" I looked down, a soft laugh escaping my lips. "Right. Such a trivial thing." I looked back up at him. "Then tell me. Why did she answer your phone at eleven o'clock last night?"