Love Drenched in Blood

Our third wedding anniversary also happened to be the thirty-sixth week of my pregnancy.

I didn't wait long enough for Santino Douglas to come home and cut the cake.

Instead, I got a phone call from the local police station.

"Your husband was caught stealing a woman's undergarments."

By the time I arrived, Santino's white shirt was covered in dusty footprints.

And a barely-dressed female intern was standing in front of him, guarding him like a human shield.

She kept yelling at the officer who was taking notes, "This is a misunderstanding! I bought those for Mr. Douglas! How can you arrest him for that?!"

I looked at the black lace garment in Santino's hand-the one he didn't even have time to throw away.

My stomach twisted so hard I felt sick.

I walked toward him, but he suddenly stepped in front of the intern, Baylee Ford, trying to explain.

I slapped him before he even opened his mouth.

"Santino, you're disgusting."

Santino fell silent.

He turned to look at me, his eyes full of shock and wounded pride, as if I had wronged him.

Then, right in front of all the officers, he shook that wrinkled piece of black lace like he was the victim.

"Charlie, this is the anniversary gift Baylee and I searched the whole city for. Can you stop making a scene?"

My hand trembled as I pointed at that pathetic scrap of fabric.

"For me? Santino, I'm thirty-six weeks pregnant. And this is what you think I should wear?"

He stepped closer, trying to take my hand. I yanked it away.

He didn't get mad. With the tone he had used to gaslight me a thousand times, he said, "Charlie, don't be so sensitive. Baylee said this is the trendiest style online right now. I just wanted to check if it's suitable for a pregnant woman. But they treated me like a pervert! Accused me of stealing! I'm the CEO of Douglas Group-why would I steal something worth a few hundred bucks? What a joke! I go through all this trouble to surprise you, and not only do you not appreciate it, you hit me in public?"

He sounded so sincere, as if he were the one who had been wronged.

I looked at Baylee.

She was wearing his suit jacket over her shoulders.

The moment Santino finished talking, she wiped her tears like she was the victim too.

"Yeah, Charlie, Mr. Douglas said you've been feeling insecure because pregnancy made you tired and less confident. He just wanted you to feel attractive again. I was only helping check the material. If you want to blame someone, blame me. I didn't think it through and caused this misunderstanding."

I stared at her.

Then at the lingerie-clearly an S-size, something a heavily pregnant woman could never fit into.

Even the officer next to us couldn't take it anymore. He cleared his throat and said, "Ahem... well, since the your wife is here and it's all a misunderstanding, just sign the form."

His eyes held sympathy toward me.

I took a deep breath, swallowing the nausea burning up my throat.

For the sake of giving my child a complete family, I swallowed the word divorce that sat at the tip of my tongue.

I signed.

Seeing my silence, Santino assumed I believed him. He cautiously pulled me into his arms.

"Come on, let's go home. Don't get worked up over something this small. It's bad for the baby."

On the way back, he kept checking the rearview mirror at Baylee, then sneaking glances at me.

When I kept staring out the window, saying nothing, he finally got restless.

"Charlie, don't overthink it. Baylee just graduated. She's carefree and impulsive, just like you used to be."

Just like I used to be.

Back then, I was the one known in the investment world as the woman who worked like my life depended on it-sharp, relentless.

Now I had become the version he claimed was "perfect wife material."

Yet he found me boring.

The car pulled up in front of the villa.

Baylee tactfully offered to take a cab home. Santino insisted on driving her, until I shot him a cold look.

At home, I looked at the cake, the big "3" candle on top, and felt a wave of bitterness.

But the baby was due soon, and I refused to let my child be born without a father.

I cut a slice of cake and handed it to him.

My voice was low, almost pleading, "Santino, the baby's almost here. For the child's sake, can you please... pull yourself together?"

I looked at him with all the hope I had left.

He glanced at my swollen, exhausted face.

A flicker of disgust flashed in his eyes.

He pushed the cake away.

"Charlie, you're fine. You're just too sensitive. I'm tired. I'm taking a shower."

Then he went upstairs.

I stayed in the empty living room.

After a while, I heard his low voice from the bathroom, "Baylee, you're home? Good. No, she's not mad. Pregnant women get emotional. Be good. Sleep early."

I looked at the dried cream on the back of my hand.

The love I had for him curdled right then.

But feeling the baby move inside me, I kept telling myself, "Just hold on. Once the baby is born, maybe things will get better. He'll come back to our family. He used to look forward to this baby so much."

For the past few days, Santino had been coming home early.

Maybe he wanted to make up for the "misunderstanding" at the police station, because he was acting like the perfect husband.

During my prenatal checkup, the doctor said I was showing signs of prenatal depression and suggested that my husband spend more time with me.

Santino agreed on the spot and said he would take me out for dinner.

I booked his favorite hidden gem.

It was the place where we had first fallen for each other.

I even pulled out that old red dress.

It was the one I bought before I got pregnant, which had been loose back then, but now it stretched tight around my body.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

My belly was huge, my limbs swollen, faint spots across my face.

But I still put on light makeup and lipstick, trying to find a trace of the old me.

When Santino came home and saw me all dressed up, he froze for a moment.

A flicker of surprise, maybe even admiration, crossed his eyes.

He walked over, his voice unusually gentle, and even reached out to smooth my hair.

"Baby, you look beautiful tonight. I'll keep you company, I promise. Phone off. No one's getting in the way."

For a second, something in my chest sparked back to life.

Maybe he really did love me.

Maybe Baylee Ford really was just a passing mistake.

The waiter served the dishes, all my favorites.

Santino peeled shrimp for me, his movements practiced and familiar, just like the last three years.

The atmosphere was perfect.

I was just about to bring up baby names...

Then a harsh ringtone shattered everything.

He looked at me instinctively, his hands freezing mid-motion.

I didn't say anything. I just watched him.

He hesitated, then answered.

"Hello?"

On the other end, Baylee's voice trembled with tears. "Mr. Douglas... sob... I'm stuck in the elevator at my apartment... All the lights went out... I'm scared of the dark... the elevator is shaking... I'm really scared... I called property management but no one picked up... I didn't know who else to call... you're the only number I remembered..."

Santino's expression changed instantly.

"Baylee, don't be scared! Breathe! Hit the emergency button! What floor are you on? I'm coming right now!"

I sat there holding the shrimp he had been peeling.

I looked at him and asked softly, "Do you really have to go? You can call 911 for her. Santino... tonight is our date. You said you'd only be with me."

His hand stalled halfway into his coat.

He looked at me-guilt flashed in his eyes, but it quickly hardened into self-righteousness.

"Charlie, how can you be so cold?" This is life-and-death! That's an old building-its elevator breaks all the time. What if it falls? You're an adult. You can take care of yourself. You eat first. I've already paid the bill. Be good, don't make a fuss. I'll be home after I deal with this."

And with that, he walked out.

His steps were hurried. He didn't look back. Not even once.

Not even when it started pouring outside.

Not even though I was heavily pregnant.

Not even though I had just given him a chance to stay.

I watched the rain get heavier, watched the glow of his taillights disappear into the downpour.

The light in my heart went out.

I was too strong now, too independent-and I knew him too well.

I didn't need saving.

So he chose to save the counterfeit version of the "old me."

I walked out of the restaurant alone.

Rain came down hard, the wind slapping droplets across my face like needles.

I stood beneath the awning, staring at the neon lights of the city.

I thought, it was time to wake up.

It was late, and a storm was coming down in sheets. Ride‑shares had a two‑hundred‑plus queue.

I stood by the curb, the cold wind drilling straight into my bones.

The baby in my belly must've felt my anxiety-he kept kicking hard.

I finally managed to flag down a cab.

The driver noticed I was pregnant and kindly pulled right up to the curb so I wouldn't have to step far.

Supporting my lower back, I carefully reached for the door.

That was when a motorcycle suddenly shot out from the sidewalk, swerving to escape the rain.

"Watch out!" the driver yelled.

Instinctively, I jerked back.

My foot landed on the slick tactile paving.

With a sharp crack, I slammed onto the ground.

A wave of pain ripped through me.

Then warmth trickled down my thigh.

I looked down.

Amniotic fluid mixed with blood, soaking through my dress in seconds

"Miss! Miss, are you okay?!"

The cab driver freaked out and rushed over in the pouring rain to help me up.

My face drained of color. Cold sweat mixed with rainwater.

My hands shook as I fumbled for my phone.

I tried to dial 911, but my fingers were trembling so badly I couldn't even unlock the screen.

So out of pure instinct, I hit the top contact.

"Santino, please! Help me. Help our baby.!!!"

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times...

No answer.

I bit down hard, swallowing the pain, and dialed again.

This time, he picked up.

But before I could say anything, his irritated voice cut in, "Charlie, seriously? Again?" I told you, I'm dealing with Baylee. She just got rescued, she's terrified, and it took forever to calm her down. Can you not be so dramatic for once?"

He was comforting another woman to sleep.

And I was lying in the rain, bleeding out, barely hanging on.

My lips parted, voice shaking uncontrollably, "Santino... I fell... there's so much blood... please..."

I expected panic.

I expected him to rush over.

But there was a beat of silence.

Then a cold laugh.

"You fell? You're bleeding? Charlie, the things you'll do to trick me into coming home... unbelievable. Baylee was right. You're just controlling. First you accused me of things, now you're faking injuries. Cry wolf too many times and it stops working. Look outside, it's pouring. You? Falling in the rain? Aren't you at that restaurant having your fancy dinner? Cut the act. I'm not coming back tonight. Think about what you've done."

Beep-

Beep-

Beep-

He hung up.

When I called again, it went straight to voicemail. His phone was off.

My phone slipped from my hand, hitting a puddle.

The screen flickered once, then went dead.

Just like the last bit of hope I had for him.

Rain hammered my face, running into my mouth, salty and nauseating.

I couldn't tell if it was rain or tears.

The pain in my stomach tightened again and again.

But suddenly, I no longer felt pain.

Because in that moment, the love I had for Santino, and the child's hopeful little bond with his father, died by his hand.

Completely.

I no longer wished for him to come.

All I wanted was-

If I survived this, may our paths never cross again.

"Sir..."

I grabbed the cab driver's pant leg, mustering the last bit of strength, my eyes hollow and resolute.

"Call... 911 for me... And... call my lawyer... I'm not calling my husband... I'm calling my lawyer..."

The driver panicked, fumbling for his phone. "Okay-okay! Miss, hold on! The ambulance is on the way!"

I lay in the freezing rain, staring up at the pitch‑black sky.

"Santino, this time, we're done for good."