Too Late for Regrets
On the day of my seventh wedding anniversary, my husband's lover gave my son a pet cat.
My pregnancy made me allergic to cat fur, and rashes appeared all over my body. Sensing that it might lead to a miscarriage, I told my son to return the cat.
"I'm keeping it!" my five-year-old son, Zachary, protested. He pushed me and said, "I hate having you as my mom! I want Aunt Lynn to be my mom!"
My husband, Quinton Locke, tore into me. "Why did you have to develop an allergy now, out of all times? Is your jealousy blinding you to the point where you won't even consider your son 's feelings? You're being unreasonable!"
He carried Zachary up and left with the cat. They had eschewed me in favor of Lynn Shelbert, Quinton's lover and the 'apple of his eye'.
I collapsed on the ground, watching as blood began to soak my pants. At that moment, I knew I had suffered a miscarriage.
I felt an unimaginable pain while I was in the hospital.
My husband and son went traveling with Lynn, resembling a happy family of three.
Lynn sent me a message. [Do you know why Quinton married you even though he's hopelessly in love with me? Well, I wanted a son and a daughter, but I didn't want to bear the risks that come with pregnancy. It's a shame you had a miscarriage.]
Despair engulfed me that very instant.
I hired a lawyer to prepare the divorce papers and took a flight back to my hometown.
My sole wish was to never see Quinton and Zachary again.
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