A love once lost

"Ma'am, you need to call a family member or a friend to sign the documents before we can proceed with the surgery."

The nurse's voice felt distant, like a whisper through thick fog.

I stared at my phone. Not a single message.

My hands trembled as I dialed his number again.

This time, he picked up.

"Ayi has a fever, and I'm with her at the hospital. Can you stop pestering me?"

Beep.

The line went dead before I could speak.

I wanted to tell him. To whisper through my pain, I was hit by a car. Our baby didn't survive.

But he didn't even give me a chance.

Still, I held onto hope, one last time.

I sent him a text. I lost our baby.

A red mark appeared next to the message.

Blocked.

Something inside me broke.

For ten years, I loved him. I dedicated myself to him. And what did I get?

I hand-washed his clothes. I prepared his meals. I picked out his outfits. Every night, I waited up for him, hoping-praying-that he would see me. That he would acknowledge me.

But I was nothing more than a shadow in his life.

I remembered the boy I had fallen for-the one who protected me from bullies, who made me feel safe. I held onto those memories like lifelines, even though I couldn't confess my feelings to him at that time scared I might lose him

That's why, five years ago, when his first love disappeared and he asked me to marry him, I thought my wish had come true.

But it wasn't love.

It was convenience.

He needed a placeholder. Someone to soothe his wounded pride. And like a fool, I thought if I tried hard enough, I could make him love me.

But now? Our baby was gone. She was back.

There was nothing left for me to hold onto.

I picked up my phone and called my childhood friend.

He arrived within minutes. He signed the papers. He stayed by my side as I was wheeled into surgery.

And when I woke up, I knew-the accident wasn't a coincidence. Someone wanted me dead.

My phone beeped.

A message from an unknown number.

I opened it.

A picture of Xiao Ling.

He was kneeling before her, gently wiping her feet with a towel.

Beneath the image, a message:

"He will always choose me. You were only a substitute. Hurry up and give him back-your services are no longer needed."

A sharp pain stabbed through my chest.

My vision blurred as silent tears spilled down my cheeks.

I thought back to all the times I had been sick, curled up in bed, my body burning with fever.

"Xiao Ling, can you bring me lamb soup?"

"Stop being petty and unreasonable," he had snapped.

That day, I had to call my friends for help. And when one of them arrived, Xiao Ling had sneered at me.

"Shameless," he spat. "Bringing another man into our house?"

But now...

There he was.

On his knees. Smiling as he wiped her feet.

For years, whenever he was sick, I stayed by his side, wiping his forehead, making sure he had everything he needed.

But not once-not once-had he ever bent down for me.

I was the villain in their love story.

That night, after my surgery, the doctor spoke to me in a hushed tone.

"You need to rest. Your injuries were severe. If you strain yourself... you may not be able to conceive again."

I felt... nothing.

I returned home and drew a warm bath.

As I stepped out, I caught my reflection in the mirror.

I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.

I was twenty-four. But I looked thirty.

Dark circles, dull skin, fine lines creeping along my face.

I had spent so much time sacrificing myself for Xiao Ling that I had forgotten myself.

That ended tonight.

I picked up my phone and called my workplace.

"I'm taking a sick leave."

Nobody knew I was his wife. That was how little I mattered to him.

That night, as I lay in bed, the door creaked open.

Xiao Ling walked in.

He flicked on the light and froze when he saw me lying there.

For the briefest second, I saw shock in his eyes.

Then, it was gone.

Clearing his throat, he spoke.

"I heard you took a sick leave. Don't worry about work-just rest until you're better, okay?"

He smiled, his voice unusually gentle.

"Ayi said she can take your place until you recover."

I stared at him.

His lips curled into a lovesick grin, his voice dripping with warmth-for her.

Something inside me clicked into place.

I had never been his wife. Only his substitute.

I took a deep breath and sat up.

My voice was steady.

"Xiao Ling, let's get a divorce."

His hand, midair about to pat my hair, went rigid.

For the first time, he was speechless.

Then, he chuckled, shaking his head.

"I know you're upset because I ignored your call," he said smoothly. "And you're jealous of Ayi. She doesn't have anyone here, so I promised her parents I'd take care of her."

He was about to spew more nonsense, but his phone rang.

A customized ringtone.

For her.

He answered instantly. Ayi's panicked voice filled the silence.

Without another word, Xiao Ling turned and walked out.

He didn't even look back.

I lay back down and closed my eyes.

For the first time in years, I slept peacefully.

Because I finally understood.

No matter what I did...

I was never meant to be his choice.

But now?

I was finally choosing myself.