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546words2026-01-26 09:07

Three months pregnant, I was on bed rest when a typhoon hit. My husband, Ethan Brooks,however, took a call and rushed to his childhood friend.
Then I felt a sharp pain my stomach. The ambulance crashed en route, and I lost the baby.
Ethan showed up late, only to scold me: “Emily Harper, you’re useless! Can’t even keep a child!”

…
The typhoon roared, rain was pounding on thr rood.
Midnight, Ethan’s face darkened after a call. “Wait there, I’m coming now!”
Who else could make him go out in such weather but Sophie Lane?
I grabbed his hand. “Don’t go, I’m scared!”
I was three months pregnant and already showing signs of miscarriage. The doctor ordered bed rest.

Ethan snapped, “Sophie’s got a cold. Can you be reasonable for once?”
He shook me off, slamming the door.
The anxious look on his face stunned me.
We had been married two years, pregnant three months. I learned about Sophie only after our engagement.

He was frank with me: Sophie was his neighbor, they grew up together.
I didn’t think much at that time—childhood friends who didn’t end up together? Definitely no spark between.
I was wrong. One call from Sophie, and Ethan dropped everything, no matter the time and place.
I had argued with him before, but he said, “Emily, why so petty? Sophie’s alone, I have to help!”
“I love you. Trust me.”
After we got married, Sophie even bought moved to our beighborhood.
Now, with her cold, Ethan left his pregnant wife alone in a storm.
I laughed coldly, shaking my head. If he wanted to go, let him go.
I tried sleeping, but the typhoon’s howls and car alarms—another tree uprooted—kept me jumpy. Who parks outside in this?
A crash echoed from the living room. Heart racing, I opened the door and saw only darkness—power was out.
Wind roared through. I gaped: the window was gone!
I remembered clearly that I had told him to do something about the window in case of a typhoon!
I retreated, calling Ethan. No answer.
Too scared to go out, I huddled in a corner.
By dawn, sweating, my stomach ached. In the bathroom, I saw blood. What was worse, water was off too!
Panicked—at three months the baby still wasn’t stable—I needed a hospital.
I called Ethan. After what seemed to be ages, Sophie answered, “Emily? Ethan stayed with me all night. He’s asleep now. Need something?”
“Can you put him on the phone?”
“He’s exhausted. If it’s not urgent, maybe call him back later?”
My heart sank. Ethan, you’re real merciless.
I took a photo of the chaos outside and sent it to him.
Then I called 911. I couldn’t risk waiting.
The ambulance arrived fast, rushing me to the hospital.
At an intersection, a gust of sharp wind rocked the vehicle, crashing it onto the sidewalk. I fell, sharp pain tearing through my abdomen.
"Lady’s bleeding! Hold on!”
Dazed, I grabbed the nurse’s arm. “Call Ethan!”
“He’s my husband!”
She found “Husband” in my phone and dialed. A woman answered.
“Emily, Ethan’s sleeping. Talk tomorrow.”
She hung up before I could speak.
My heart plummeted, tears streamed down my face.
The nurse, awkward, tried to soothe me, “Stay with me. Your baby needs you!”