They Chose His Mistress, So I Chose Myself
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I almost died giving birth to my daughter. The doctors gave me a thirty percent chance of survival — and I took it, because I thought a child might finally make my husband choose home over her.
I was wrong.
I stood in the hallway and listened to Kael tell his mother that I was "more resilient" — that the risks of childbirth were too serious for the woman he truly loved, so it had to be me. I was not his wife. I was a vessel.
Then my daughter, the child I had bled for, looked me in the eyes and said she wished Ivy were her mother instead.
That was the night I stopped waiting.
I filed for divorce. I walked out. I reclaimed the research career I had abandoned for a man who never saw me. And I told myself I was done.
What I didn't expect was the little boy I pulled back from the edge of suffocation — a child with no parents, a face I couldn't stop feeling I recognized, and a medical robot I had designed with my own hands tucked inside his coat.
Who is he? And why does finding him feel like the beginning of something I'm not ready for?
I was wrong.
I stood in the hallway and listened to Kael tell his mother that I was "more resilient" — that the risks of childbirth were too serious for the woman he truly loved, so it had to be me. I was not his wife. I was a vessel.
Then my daughter, the child I had bled for, looked me in the eyes and said she wished Ivy were her mother instead.
That was the night I stopped waiting.
I filed for divorce. I walked out. I reclaimed the research career I had abandoned for a man who never saw me. And I told myself I was done.
What I didn't expect was the little boy I pulled back from the edge of suffocation — a child with no parents, a face I couldn't stop feeling I recognized, and a medical robot I had designed with my own hands tucked inside his coat.
Who is he? And why does finding him feel like the beginning of something I'm not ready for?













































