My Husband Ignored My Call While I Miscarried His Legacy

The challenge was trending online: “Call your husband and ask for money to buy something.” The wives at the table were dissolving in laughter. Mrs. Davies asked for a handbag; fifty grand hit her account instantly. Mrs. Rodriguez asked for a necklace; thirty grand, cleared. When it was my turn, my palms were sweating, especially since my sister-in-law, Vivienne Lane, was also present—the perpetually grieving widow of Gideon’s older brother. “Maybe I shouldn’t…” I tried to demur. Vivienne suddenly spoke up, her voice honey-soft, “If Mia feels awkward, I can go first.” Before I could react, she had already dialed my husband, Gideon Thorne. The line connected.

1. Mrs. Thorne—the group had always called me Mrs. Thorne, but somehow, I felt like the placeholder—set her phone down, her eyes sweeping over us. “You all saw the viral challenge, right? Call your husband, ask for money for a splurge, and see who’s the most enthusiastic about spending.” A low hum of laughter filled the private dining room. The other wives feigned shyness but their eyes were bright with competitive excitement. Mrs. Davies went first, cooing that she’d spotted a vintage Cartier. Fifty thousand dollars was instantly transferred. Mrs. Rodriguez followed, mentioning a rare art print. Thirty thousand dollars landed in her bank app before she hung up. When it came to Mrs. Allen, her husband was in a board meeting. He spoke in a low, muffled voice, promising a transfer later, but still sent two thousand instantly as a placeholder. “Amelia, you’re up,” Mrs. Thorne said, turning her attention to me. I gripped my phone, my palm already damp. To be honest, I didn’t want to play this game—not today, not with Vivienne Lane here. Vivienne sat in a corner booth, wearing a simple, pale linen dress, holding her five-year-old son, Callum, on her lap. Her husband, Gideon’s older brother, had died in a car accident two years ago. “Maybe I should skip it…” I tried to find an excuse. “Oh, come on, everyone’s done it!” Mrs. Thorne insisted, nudging me. Vivienne looked up abruptly, her voice soft and tender. “If Mia’s having trouble, I’ll go again.” Before I could protest, she had dialed Gideon’s number. It rang once. He picked up. 2. “Hello, Gideon?” Vivienne’s voice was the sound of a silk ribbon unwinding. “I’m having tea with Mia and the others. Callum saw a new remote-control drone he wants, but my account is a little low…” “How much? I’ll send it now.” Gideon’s voice, muffled but clearly audible through the speaker, was gentle. Alarmingly gentle. “Twelve hundred is plenty, thank you, Gideon.” “Sent.” She hung up and smiled at me. “Your turn, Mia.” The room went quiet. All eyes were on me. I took a deep breath, and pressed Gideon’s speed dial. BEEP—BEEP—BEEP— The waiting felt endless. One ring, two rings, three rings… until it went straight to voicemail. He hadn’t answered. Mrs. Thorne tried to smooth things over. “He must be busy, Mia. Try again?” I dialed a second time. It rang only twice this time before being deliberately hung up. Click. My face burned. The humiliation was a physical thing, spreading from my cheeks to my neck. I set the phone down and managed a brittle smile. “He must be in a meeting.” “If my husband hung up on me, he’d be sleeping on the uncomfortable guest room air mattress for a month,” Mrs. Davies joked, trying to lighten the mood. Vivienne softly stroked Callum’s hair, then spoke. “Tell you what, I’ll call him back. I’ll say I’m doing it for you, Mia.” She picked up her phone, dialed, and put it on speaker. This time, the phone connected instantly. 3. “What’s wrong, Vivi? Didn’t the money go through?” Gideon’s background noise was noisy, like an office floor. Vivienne shot me a quick, almost imperceptible glance of triumph. She spoke warmly, “It went through fine, Gideon. I just wanted to say thank you again. I’ll let you get back to work now.” The call ended. The dining room was silent as a tomb. I sat there, suddenly convinced the air conditioning was too cold. It felt frigid, numbing my fingertips. Mrs. Thorne cleared her throat and started talking about a recent charity gala. Vivienne leaned toward me, her light, woody perfume—the same scent Gideon’s car always carried—drifting into my space. “Mia, don’t overthink it,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Gideon just feels sorry for me and Callum, being alone. He’s just being charitable.” I nodded, unable to speak. Mrs. Thorne and the others exchanged a knowing, loaded look, then quickly smiled, praising Gideon for being so loyal and kind-hearted. 4. I got home around seven that evening. Gideon was on the living room sofa, reading files. He didn’t look up when I walked in. I kicked off my heels and stood in the doorway, just looking at him. The warm glow of the lamps outlined the familiar curve of his profile—the face I had secretly loved throughout my entire adolescence. But looking at it now, my chest felt heavy, like it was stuffed with wet cotton. “Why didn’t you answer my call today?” I heard my voice, thin and unsteady. He turned a page in his file, as if just recalling the event, his tone dismissive. “I was in a conference call.” “But you answered Vivienne’s call immediately.” He finally lifted his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Mia, do you have to compare yourself to her?” “I’m not comparing. I just wanted to know…” “Know what?” He put the files down, annoyance clear in his voice. “My brother is gone. Vivienne is a single mother with a young child. What is the harm in me looking out for her? Can’t you stop being so petty?” It was always this way. Any time the conversation circled back to Vivienne, the logic would twist, and somehow, I would always end up being the wrong one. 5. “I am not being petty!” I raised my voice. “I am your wife! I deserve a basic level of respect and dignity!” Gideon looked at me as if I’d told a terrible joke. He walked over, his tall frame looming, radiating an oppressive authority. “Amelia, I told you when I married you: My brother entrusted Vivienne to my care. It is my responsibility to look after her. You promised you would understand and support me, didn’t you? What, are you regretting it now?” I remembered our wedding day, when he held my hand in front of our friends and family, promising a lifetime of devotion. I also remembered the words he whispered to me right after the ceremony: “Mia, my brother’s death was sudden. We need to help his widow, okay?” Back then, I was moved. I thought he was a man of honor. Now, I felt like a pathetic fool. “Gideon,” I took a deep, shuddering breath, the tears finally starting to fall against my will. “What exactly am I to you?” He watched me cry, a flicker of irritation in his eyes before he looked away. “You are my wife. But that does not give you the right to act like a demanding child and make Vivienne’s life harder.” He paused, his voice softening slightly. “Mia, I thought you were more understanding.” Understanding him picking Callum up from school every day. Understanding him remembering all of Vivienne’s preferences. Understanding him ditching our wedding anniversary dinner to celebrate Vivienne’s birthday. Understanding it to the point that strangers commented Vivienne looked more like Gideon’s wife than I did. How much more was there to give? “I’m tired. I’m going to shower.” I turned and headed for the stairs. He spoke to my back. “Vivienne and Callum are coming for dinner tomorrow. Make sure you prepare some dishes Callum likes.” I didn’t answer. 6. In the shower, the bathroom filled with steam. I looked at my reflection in the fogged-up mirror and felt like a stranger. When had this face lost its smile? When had it become so worn and exhausted? My phone buzzed. It was a text from Vivienne: Mia, please don’t be angry about today. Gideon is just a genuinely good person. I didn’t reply. My finger slid to Gideon’s chat window. The last message was mine, from yesterday: Cramping badly. Could use my husband to rub my back. He hadn’t replied. Ten minutes ago, Vivienne had posted a photo on Instagram: a struggling succulent plant. I’m so silly, I can’t even keep a little plant alive. Gideon was the first comment. Don’t worry. I’m on my way over to check on it. I’ll buy you a new one. The best kind. I estimated I could die, and it would be a minor inconvenience. Her little plant dying was a national emergency. 7. Vivienne arrived the next afternoon with Callum, just as expected. Her eyes were red and slightly swollen. She rushed toward me and took my hand. “Mia, I came specifically to apologize. Yesterday, I honestly didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I got used to reaching out to Gideon’s brother when I needed help, and I didn’t think about how it looked. Please, can you forgive me?” Her posture was meek, but behind her, Callum shot into my house like a tiny missile, shrieking and running wild. “Callum, that’s enough!” Vivienne called out half-heartedly, but didn’t move her feet. I watched him clamber onto my treasured display cabinet and sweep my entire high-end perfume collection onto the floor. Glass shattered. The expensive, complex scents mixed into a nauseating cloud. “What are you doing!” I rushed over, heartbroken. “Nyah, nyah! Mean lady! This is my uncle’s house! I can break whatever I want!” Callum made a face at me, then ran toward the sofa, picking up the remote control and throwing it hard at the flatscreen TV. Vivienne finally strolled over. Looking at the mess, her eyes welled up instantly. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Callum never had a father, and I spoiled him… It’s all my fault…” 8. Just as the last word left her lips, Gideon appeared, walking down the staircase. He was in loungewear, his hair slightly rumpled. “Daddy!” Callum rushed him like a small, explosive toy, and Gideon scooped him up. I froze, looking at Gideon. He avoided my eyes. “Callum, don’t call him that,” Vivienne gently corrected, but her voice lacked any real conviction. “He is my daddy! He is!” Gideon patted the boy’s back and looked at Vivienne. “What happened? You look terrible.” Vivienne didn’t speak, she just let the tears fall. “Gideon, please tell Mia not to be angry. I just… I’m alone with Callum, and sometimes I panic. I always think of you first…” “No one is blaming you,” Gideon said, his voice softening. “Don’t worry about it.” Her shoulders shook with sobs, a picture of delicate sorrow. Gideon put his arm around her. When he looked up at me again, his eyes were cold. “Amelia, what did you say to her now?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Vivienne’s voice was faint and trembling. “Gideon, I need to ask you something… Could you and Mia… put off having children for a while? Just until I’m more stable, until Callum is a little older and can handle it better… I know it’s a huge ask, but I’m so afraid…” 9. “This…” “I…” I started to speak. Vivienne suddenly dropped to her knees. “Vivi!” Gideon was startled. He put Callum down and rushed to help her up. “Gideon, I’m begging you…” Vivienne wept, her face tear-streaked. “Can you and Mia just… wait on having a baby?” The air froze solid. I stood there, feeling utterly paralyzed. Vivienne sobbed, continuing, “Callum already thinks of you as his father… If you have your own child, where will we stand? What will happen to us? Will there even be a place for us in this family anymore?” As she spoke, she secretly reached out and pinched Callum’s arm, hard. Callum immediately let out a painful, ear-splitting scream. The sound was hideous. Gideon picked the child up again, holding him close. Vivienne cried harder. “Callum is terrified, Gideon.” He was silent for a long time. Then, he looked up and met my gaze. “Mia,” he said. “Let’s hold off on a baby for now, okay?” The light, effortless sentence was a blunt knife, slowly twisting in my heart. I stared into his eyes, looking for a flicker of hesitation, a touch of guilt, any sign that he considered my feelings. There was nothing. Only reluctant compromise and pity for the mother and son in his arms. “Fine,” I heard myself say. “Whatever you want.” Gideon let out a deep sigh of relief, helping Vivienne stand up. “Get up, the floor is cold. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. Always.” Vivienne leaned against his shoulder, quietly sobbing. Through her tears, she looked past him at me, and the corner of her mouth lifted in the faintest, quickest curve. It was the smile of a victor.