Pregnant and Bleeding, My Husband Picked His Ex

I saw the other car too late.

The snow was coming down so hard I could barely see ten feet ahead. My wipers were working overtime, squeaking against the windshield. I should've stayed home. But Mrs. Henderson's cat needed me, and I'd promised.

Eight months pregnant and still making house calls. Colton would've said I was being stupid.

Colton.

I wondered if he was already at the clinic. Probably. He'd left early, saying something about checking on a patient. He'd barely kissed me goodbye.

The red light at Main Street appeared through the white blur. I hit the brakes.

Too late.

The other car came from the right, sliding through the intersection. Black SUV. No control.

I didn't think. My hands flew to my stomach.

The baby.

The impact threw me forward. The seatbelt caught. Pain exploded across my chest and belly. Metal screamed. Glass shattered.

Then everything went quiet except for the snow hitting the windshield.

My hands were still on my stomach. I pressed down gently.

Please be okay. Please.

The ambulance came fast. I barely registered the sirens, the hands lifting me onto the stretcher. Someone kept saying my name. The EMT, maybe. I couldn't focus on his face.

What I could focus on was the other stretcher. The other ambulance parked behind mine.

Sienna Hartley.

She was being loaded up, her blonde hair matted with blood. Her face was pale. Even like that, she looked perfect.

High school royalty. Colton's high school crush. The one he'd never quite gotten over.

She was back in town. Pregnant. Divorced.

I'd heard the gossip at the supermarket. Everyone had.

And now we were both heading to the same place. The clinic. The only medical facility in Millbrook.

The waiting room was packed when they wheeled me in. Of course it was. The storm had knocked out power on the east side. People were taking shelter wherever they could. The clinic had a generator. It was warm. Safe.

Twenty faces turned to look at me. I recognized all of them. Mr. Patterson from the feed store. Sarah Mitchell from the supermarket. Jake Morrison from the gas station.

Jake's eyes widened when he saw me. "Maren?"

I tried to smile. Couldn't.

Betty Kowalski appeared, her pink scrubs bright against the chaos. She'd been the clinic nurse for thirty years. She knew everyone. Everyone knew her.

"Jesus," she muttered, taking in my stretcher. "You okay, honey?"

"I don't know."

Then they brought Sienna in.

Betty's face went white. "Oh hell."

Two pregnant women. One clinic. One small OR.

"Dr. Colton!" Betty shouted toward the back. "We need you now!"

My heart jumped. Colton.

He came through the doors like he always did. White coat, stethoscope, that calm confidence that made everyone trust him. His blonde hair was messy, like he'd been running his hands through it. There was blood on his coat.

Someone else's blood.

He stopped when he saw us. Saw me. Saw Sienna.

His face did something I'd never seen before. A flash of panic. Then calculation.

"Betty," he said, voice steady. "Status?"

"Two pregnant women. Both from the accident on Main. Both need immediate attention."

Betty looked at me. At Sienna. Back at Colton.

"There's only one OR. The backup room is still being set up."

The waiting room had gone silent. Twenty people watching. Listening.

Colton walked closer. His eyes moved between us.

Me. His wife. Eight months pregnant with his child.

Sienna. His high school dream girl. Seven months pregnant with someone else's baby.

Less than three seconds.

That's all it took.

He turned to Sienna.

"This patient has a documented heart condition," he said, his voice taking on that professional tone he used with other doctors. "Any delay could be fatal. We need to take her first."

Betty stared at him. "But Colton—"

"I'm making a medical judgment here." He looked at me for half a second. "Mrs. Whitmore is an athlete. Former college swimmer. Her cardiovascular system is stronger. She can handle the wait."

Mrs. Whitmore.

Not Maren. Not honey. Not his wife's name.

Mrs. Whitmore.

"But—" Betty tried again.

"I'm her husband," Colton said, cutting her off. "I know her medical history better than anyone. Trust me."

He moved to Sienna's stretcher.

I wanted to say something. Wanted to call his name. Wanted to scream.

But my voice was stuck somewhere between my throat and my heart.

He pushed Sienna toward the OR doors. She looked up at him with those big blue eyes, tears streaming down her perfect face.

"Am I going to be okay?" she whispered.

His whole face changed. Softened. Became someone I'd never seen him be.

Not with me. Never with me.

"You're going to be fine," he said gently. "I promise. I'll take care of you."

Then they were gone. Through the doors. Into the OR.

Leaving me on a stretcher in the hallway.

The waiting room stayed quiet. Twenty people who'd just watched my husband choose another woman over me.

Betty's hand found mine. "Honey—"

I felt it then.

Pain.

Sharp. Sudden. Low in my belly.

"Betty."

She looked down. Saw my face.

"What is it?"

"Something's wrong."

The pain got worse. Deeper. I gasped.

Then I felt it. Warmth spreading between my legs. Wetness.

Blood.

"Oh god," Betty's voice went high. "She's bleeding."

The waiting room erupted. Voices. Footsteps.

But all I could think was:

He left me.

The pain came again, harder this time. Ripping through me.

He actually left me.

Betty was shouting something. Numbers. Medical words. Other nurses appeared.

But the only thing I heard clearly was my own thought, over and over:

I'm going to die here.

And my husband chose someone else.