Part 3The Night My Marriage Ended

Liam froze, caught completely off guard. He fumbled with a cup of water, sending it spilling across the bedside table. He scrambled for an excuse, his eyes darting between me and the crowd.

“Noah, don’t get the wrong idea,” he stammered. “After the fever broke last night, I was still worried, so I brought him back to the hospital for a check-up.” He gestured vaguely around the room. “The ER is swamped, you know? They’re doubling up patients, just putting dividers between the beds. I had no idea we’d be in the same room as Jennifer.”

He looked at me, his face a mask of earnest concern. “I know you don’t like me. I’ll have a nurse move us as soon as he wakes up. I don’t want to cause any more trouble for you two.”

He was playing his part perfectly. On the other bed, his young son was sleeping, cheeks flushed. Liam looked like a terrified, devoted father, trying to placate a madman.

Before I could say a word, Jennifer spoke up, her voice ringing with false magnanimity.

“Liam, don’t be ridiculous. The boy is sick. You don’t need to move. If your conscience is clear, there’s nothing to fear. We have nothing to hide.”

Suddenly, the whole charade felt pathetic. The torrent of words I had prepared died in my throat. A cold, mirthless smile touched my lips.

“You’re right,” I said, my voice dripping with scorn. “There’s nothing to hide.” I turned my gaze back to her, letting the full weight of my disgust show. “I just find you filthy. And I want a divorce.”

The color drained from Jennifer’s face. She stared at me, her expression crumbling from disbelief to horror. “Noah, how long are you going to keep this up over one stupid incident?” she pleaded, her voice rising. “All I did was give a sick child a box of Tylenol!”

She was truly furious now, her control snapping. “Just because you can’t have children of your own, does that mean you have to hate everyone else’s?”

The words hit the air like a physical blow. A collective gasp went through the room. One of her friends, who knew our history, grabbed her arm. “Jennifer, that’s too far! What are you saying?”

She finally seemed to realize what she’d done. Her eyes widened, and she looked at my hands, which were now trembling uncontrollably. Regret flooded her face.

“Noah… I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up…”

Five years ago, a simple mistake during surgery cost Jennifer a premature infant’s life. The grieving father, mad with pain, stormed the hospital with a knife. I was there, bringing her lunch. In the chaos, as he lunged, she yanked me in front of her. A shield.

The fifty-centimeter blade tore through my abdomen. It severed more than just flesh and muscle. It took from me the possibility of ever having a child of my own.

After that, Jennifer had knelt by my hospital bed for days, slapping her own face until it was bruised, her voice raw from screaming apologies. “It’s all my fault, Noah, I’m a monster, how could I…” she’d wept. “I swear, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. We don’t need children. I only need you.”

Looking at her now, it was all a bitter joke.

My silence terrified her. Ripping the IV from her arm, she stumbled out of bed and collapsed at my feet, her body shaking. “Noah… I was just angry, I didn't mean it…” she sobbed, grabbing at my pants. “Please, don’t divorce me. I can’t imagine my life without you. There would be no point.”

For a fleeting second, the scene felt identical to the one five years ago.

The only thing that had changed was me.

My face was a mask of ice. I kicked her, hard, in the chest. “Get off me.”

My voice was low and menacing. “And don’t you ever call me that again. It makes my skin crawl.”

“Sign the papers, or don’t. I don’t care. There are a thousand ways I can ruin your life. Go on. Test me.”

With that, I turned and walked out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in my wake. Halfway down the hall, I stripped off the jacket she had touched and threw it in a biohazard bin.

As I exited the hospital, a voice called my name.

“Noah!”

I turned. It was Leo, a new friend from my building.