I had just finished a simple lunch alone at home and was slowly tidying up when Emilia's message came through: [Mia, you haven't even officially divorced Vincent yet, and he's already out celebrating with his new girlfriend. How shameless can he be!]
Along with her message was a photo of Vincent dining with a younger woman at a couple's restaurant.
It was the same place I had once suggested to Vincent, only to be turned down with an excuse.
A wave of nausea hit me suddenly.
In that instant, something clicked in my mind.
The next day, I went to the hospital early in the morning.
Staring at my blood test results, the doctor said, "Congratulations, Ms. Miller. According to the results, you're 13 weeks pregnant—three months along."
I remained silent for a moment.
"Please schedule me for an abortion."
In the early years of our marriage, Vincent couldn't get enough of being close to me.
We both desperately wanted a child.
Despite the years passing and no issues on either side, we just couldn't make it happen.
Now that we were divorcing, the baby decided to show up.
Well, too bad for the baby, coming at such a time.