Left In Labor For His Mentors Fragile Daughter

Nine months pregnant, and a sudden, wrenching craving hit me: the artisan doughnuts Alex and I used to share back when we were first dating. I convinced him to take me, but the moment he started the engine, the Smart-Drive navigation system whirred to life, instantly pulling up a familiar destination. The address was an unfamiliar apartment complex on the west side of the city. Alex quickly pressed the ‘X’ button when the prompt popped up. He casually changed the subject, and I, the accommodating wife, played along, pretending I hadn’t seen a thing. Later that night, long after he’d fallen asleep, I connected to the car’s mobile app. The cloud-uploaded trip log showed a recurring sixty-mile anomaly in the car’s daily behavior. Recently, under the “Owner” profile, it had been categorized as a “Daily Habit.” The video logs showed that every night after I’d gone to bed, Alex would quietly get up and slink off into the darkness toward the address I’d accidentally seen. Every time the car arrived, a slender, fragile figure was waiting by the entrance to the apartment block. She’d take his coat, brush a speck of dust from his sleeve, and adjust his scarf before he left. Most of the time, I could hear her voice, soft yet pointed: “Don’t come if you’re too busy, Alex. I’m not like your wife, who can’t be left alone for a second.” I didn’t sleep at all that night. Five years of marriage, four rounds of IVF just to get this one baby—I couldn’t bring myself to be ruthless. My friends had advised me to be practical: he still had some feelings, he still had responsibility. A marriage is a business, they said; just turn a blind eye and move on. But a week later, on the day my labor began, Alex’s phone rang in the delivery room. A panicked voice came through the speaker: “Savannah is standing on the ledge of her balcony! She says if you don’t get here, she’s jumping!” The reflex that made him snatch his hand away from mine was quicker than his thought process. “She’s my late mentor’s daughter,” he mumbled, avoiding my gaze. “I just have to talk her down.” My eyes were already red, but the scream I let out was raw, deafening. “If you walk out that door today, I will consider this child to have no father!” Alex’s steps faltered. He turned back, his face a mask of conflict and pity. But in the very next second, his stride was firm as he bolted out of the hospital room.

1 I knew exactly who the woman on the phone was. I’d seen Savannah Monroe countless times on the car’s dashcam footage. I was lying on the operating table. My gown was soaked through with sweat, sticking to my skin. My child wasn’t even born yet, and his father had already abandoned him. In a haze of pain, I heard the screaming match taking place just outside the door—my parents versus my in-laws. The fierce uterine contractions hit me like a tidal wave, but they were nothing compared to the wrenching pain in my heart. My mother was sobbing, her voice breaking with rage: “Who the hell is that woman? Has Alex lost his mind? Leaving his wife in labor?” Alex’s parents were frantically calling him, their voices tight with tears. “Rory, sweetheart, hold on! We’ve sent people to find that fool. If he doesn’t get back here today, we’ll disown him!” In my thrashing, my wedding ring slipped from my finger and skittered across the floor, kicked by a rushing nurse and swallowed by the shadows beneath the operating table. The contractions were rapid, and the monitors blared in alarm. “Fetal heart rate is dropping!” The doctor’s roar tore through the sterile air, and then everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, the smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils. A nurse was adjusting my IV drip. Seeing me awake, she spoke softly: “It’s a miracle you survived the hemorrhage. The baby… you can try again later.” Boom. It felt like someone had driven a spike directly through my chest. My mother sat beside the bed, tears welling up as she gently wiped my face. “My love, you’ve suffered so much.” My father stood by the bed, his face pale with concern. My in-laws stood huddled in the corner, overwhelmed with guilt. I stared at the stark white ceiling, tears streaming silently into the hair at my temples. Five years of mornings and evenings flashed across my mind, a silent, repeating reel. Alex’s proposal at graduation when I was twenty-two. The nights he stayed up late to prepare tailored, nutritious meals when I was sick with morning sickness. The way he meticulously logged the fetal heart rate data at every appointment. Now, all those gentle, tender moments had become a cruel joke. Alex’s best friend, Marcus Riley, stood by the doorway, looking sheepish and nervous. “Rory, Savannah… she had a depressive episode. She said if Alex didn’t come, she’d jump. There was no other way. You have to…” He trailed off, finally realizing the sheer impropriety of what he was asking. “So, do you need me to be understanding?” I retorted, my voice flat, devoid of feeling. I wanted to ask how many times he had covered for Alex—how many “guys’ nights” were actually just a cover—but suddenly, I didn’t care to know the answer. From the recovery room to the private suite, I waited for my lawful husband. I waited from dusk till dawn, and then until the next night descended. Alex finally appeared at eight in the evening, after being gone for twenty agonizing hours. His suit was wrinkled, and his eyes darted away from mine. “Rory, I’m so sorry,” his voice was dry and rough. “Savannah’s situation was truly dangerous. My mentor entrusted her to me before he died. I had no choice but to…” I cut him off, my voice a croaking whisper. “Do you know our baby is gone?” He chose to abandon my scheduled C-section to go to her. “Alex, that was our child.” A heavy silence settled in the room. He reached for my hand; his palm was cold. “Rory, I haven’t asked you for anything in these five years. Just this once, I’m begging you—don’t make a scene.” He squeezed my hand. “Savannah just lost her father. If people start accusing her of being a homewrecker, her depression will get worse.” I gazed at the naked plea in his eyes, and my heart felt like it was being shredded into a thousand pieces. He shouldn’t be begging me. He should be kneeling outside the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, weeping. A person’s first reaction is the honest one. He hadn’t asked the doctor about the hemorrhage. He hadn’t asked how terrified I was during the surgery. His very first words were all about another woman. Tears rushed out, soaking the pillowcase. I gathered every ounce of strength I had, and a single word scraped its way from my throat. “Fine.” A visible wave of relief washed over him. He continued, already planning. “Savannah can’t be left alone right now, so I’m moving in with her for a bit. Once her emotions stabilize—maybe five months or so—I’ll move back. We can try for another baby then. Okay?” Alex spoke as if he were scheduling a board meeting. I stared at him, my eyes wide, as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. My baby, whom I’d waited five years for, was barely cold, and he was already outlining his future—a future that included another woman. In that instant, my world collapsed. 2 I instinctively touched my flat lower abdomen, the place that had so recently nourished a new life—the proof of our love, now a profound, cruel irony. I slowly withdrew my hand from his grasp, my voice frighteningly calm. “Alex.” I started reciting the memories. “The first time you tried to make soup, you filled the kitchen with smoke, just because I couldn’t keep anything down due to morning sickness.” “You secretly recorded the baby’s heartbeat and set it as your ringtone, showing it off to everyone.” “You paced outside the exam room, shouting, ‘Don’t be scared, Honey!’ until the nurse kicked you out three times.” “For five years, you spoiled me until I was helpless. You even knelt down to tie my shoelaces…” “I truly believed we would be happy forever.” I lifted my tear-streaked face to him, my voice breaking. “But now, Alex, I can’t see an ounce of care for me in your eyes.” The five years of memories crashed over me. Alex’s throat bobbed violently, and he finally managed a hoarse reply. “But Honey, Savannah really needs me right now.” That single phrase, needs me, completely pulverized the last vestige of my fantasy. I looked at him and felt I was staring at a stranger. My voice shook as I spat out the word through clenched teeth: “Get out!” His body tensed. He seemed to want to hug me, but he simply turned and disappeared down the hospital corridor without looking back. On the day of our child’s memorial, I knelt at the grave. Alex did not come. “Hello, my baby,” I whispered, my voice trembling. My mother put her arm around my shoulder, wiping away her own tears. “Rory, I’m here.” I leaned into her embrace, my throat tight. “It’s okay. At least the baby was here with me for a little while.” I looked at the freshly turned earth. “And, honestly, given the situation, perhaps it’s better he never had to come to this home.” The words had barely left my mouth when Alex finally arrived, late. He knelt beside me. “Baby, Daddy…” I cut him off, my voice cold. “I told you that day. If you walked out, this child would have no father.” “Rory, I know you’re hurting, but don’t say things like that…” He frowned at me, his expression making it abundantly clear that he thought I was being unreasonable, and that he was being the magnanimous one for tolerating my tantrum. “I’m also heartbroken that our child is gone. You…” My mother raised her hand and delivered a sharp slap across his face. “Heartbroken? Your heartbreak is abandoning your wife in labor to go tend to some tramp? You should be ashamed!” Alex’s face darkened instantly. Before he could speak, Savannah, eyes red-rimmed, rushed in from the path outside the cemetery. She looked at Alex, her voice thick with sobs. “A-Alex… are you done with your prayers?” “Are you… finally coming back home to me?” My father immediately stepped forward. “Alex! What day is this? How dare you bring this woman here?” Alex seemed to know his behavior was inexcusable, and he spoke with an air of guilt. “Dad, I couldn’t help it. Savannah’s mental state has been fragile lately. I can’t leave her alone.” “Fragile? And it falls to another woman’s husband to babysit her? Do you know it’s your child’s memorial today? Do you know how Rory has suffered?” Savannah instantly lowered her head, her voice barely a whisper. “Uncle, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Alex just said he was going out, and I got scared, so I followed him.” It was the perfect, pathetic display. Just as expected, Alex immediately stepped in front of her. “Dad, take your anger out on me. Don’t torment her.” My father was furious, turning to Alex’s parents. “This is the ‘good son’ you raised!” My mother helped me stand up, shaking with anger. “Alex, are you even a man?” Alex’s parents panicked. “Alex, this is completely inappropriate. Please find someone to send Savannah home.” But Alex acted as if he hadn’t heard them. Instead, he tightened his grip on Savannah’s hand. “Her mental state has just stabilized. She can’t take any more shock.” I looked at him, my voice dry. “So… in your eyes, she can’t be shocked, but I can? I’m supposed to shoulder the death of our child all by myself, is that right?” Before he could respond, Savannah spoke up weakly, her tone heavy with manufactured remorse. “It’s okay, Alex. Rory is right. I’m being thoughtless. You… you go back. Take care of your wife.” “I’ll… I’ll go home and pack up your things now.” She stumbled as she turned, her high heel catching on a gravestone, sending her sprawling to the ground. Alex’s grip on my hand tightened, then instantly went slack, the impulse to rush to her side almost winning. But he stayed put, watching Marcus rush to help her up. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice low and firm. “I’ll stay with you for a bit longer.” He then looked directly at Savannah. “But you need to remember this, Savannah. Rory is my lawfully wedded wife.” “The day she needs me back, I will leave you. Do not cry or cause trouble. I have already done more than enough for you these past years.” Savannah bit her lip, seemingly unable to hold back any longer, and she ran crying out of the cemetery. Alex remained expressionless and did not follow. But the hand that was holding mine was trembling slightly. Intentions are impossible to hide. I remembered years ago when I was hospitalized with acute gastroenteritis. He drove through the night to get home. His eyes were red with worry and pity, yet he still lectured me for eating junk food. Back then, he had also spoken harsh words, but his fingers had gently caressed the back of my hand the entire time. 3 That evening, we sat at a large table in a private dining room. The two families’ elders were present, and the atmosphere was thick with tension. Marcus leaned toward Alex and whispered in his ear. “Savannah’s still crying in the parking lot. Security says she won’t get out of the car.” Alex was calmly passing me the meal. He didn’t look up. “Let her be.” The air in the room grew several degrees colder. The meal was entirely flavorless, no different from dining alone. Savannah was the daughter of Alex’s mentor, and they had grown up together. Though Marcus didn’t outright say it, the level of care he showed her was clearly greater than what he showed me, the official wife. The main courses arrived. The last dish, a whole roasted ribbs, was placed in front of me. Marcus suddenly spoke up. “Can we save some of that for Savvy? She loves ribbs. Rory, if you want more, we can just order another one.” Alex gave a cold laugh. He simply lifted the entire platter and placed it directly in front of me. His voice was hard. “What my wife likes is not meant to be shared with strangers.” Even so, after putting down his chopsticks, he kept glancing toward the private room door. A waiter began collecting the finished dishes and preparing to leave with a cart of food waste. After a long stretch of silence, Alex suddenly stood up. “I’ll take that.” The waiter hesitated, handing him the large trash bag with a confused look. Once Alex was gone, Marcus immediately moved to the seat furthest from me, pretending to check his email. Both sets of parents sat in awkward silence, mechanically chewing their food. I felt a suffocating tightness in my chest. I got up and walked out into the corridor, needing fresh air. Before I realized it, I had reached the underground parking garage. I faintly heard Savannah’s tearful sobs, intermingled with Alex’s low, soothing voice. I hid behind a concrete pillar. Outside, soft flakes of snow were beginning to fall. Alex and Savannah were sitting side-by-side on the hood of his sedan, sharing a takeout container of food. He lifted his hand and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. Savannah, her eyes red, lightly punched him on the arm, her face a mask of wounded entitlement. “You’re going back to her, so why are you still bothering to care about me?” Alex let her hit him, his gaze devoid of any impatience. His eyes were tender and completely accepting. It was a look that was fundamentally different from the carefully maintained, polite warmth he always showed me. He spoke, his voice filled with weariness. “Don’t be ridiculous. I promised my mentor I’d look out for you forever. You know I would never abandon you.” Savannah sniffled and moved closer to his side. Alex picked up a piece of rib with his chopsticks and brought it to her lips. “I had my private caterer make this specifically and send it over. It’s much better than the food at the restaurant.” She took a bite and her crying gradually subsided. Alex lowered his voice to explain to her. “Rory just lost the baby. Her emotions are unstable.” “It’s just one dinner with the families.” “If she’s satisfied, she won’t constantly nag me about coming home.” That was it. That was how he saw it.