I’m Emily, 25, and my husband, Mark, is 27. We’ve been married for almost four years. We don’t have any kids yet. Our relationship has been strong, and Mark is usually very caring. But yesterday, everything changed.

When I got the news about the tumor, I told Mark right away, “My mom had breast cancer. I can’t take any chances. I need to get it out.”

Mark held my hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “I know, Em. We’ll get through this together.”

The day of the lumpectomy, Mark took the day off to drive me to the hospital.

“Thanks for being here, Mark,” I said, trying to stay calm.

“Of course,” he replied. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

The surgery was delayed for three hours. Mark started pacing, his frustration growing with each passing minute.

“How much longer?” he grumbled, glancing at the clock. “This is ridiculous.”

Finally, the surgeon came in. “We’re ready now. It should take about an hour.”

Mark looked at me, his face etched with concern. “I’m starving, Em. I’ll grab lunch once you’re under, okay?”

I felt a knot in my stomach. “Can’t you wait until we’re done? We can get food on the way home.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

The next thing I knew, a nurse was shaking me awake.

“Emily, your blood pressure dropped during the surgery. It’s very low. We’re trying to reach your husband.”

My head was spinning, and I felt sick.

“Where’s Mark?” I asked, my voice weak and trembling.

The nurse frowned, her brow furrowed with concern. “We’ve called him several times, but he’s not answering.”

My heart sank. I was bleeding through my stitches, in and out of consciousness, and vomiting. The nurses were amazing, but I felt so alone.

I tried to focus on the nurse’s soothing words, but the fear and confusion were overwhelming. “Is it bad?” I managed to ask.

She nodded slightly, her expression grave. “Your blood pressure was 70/30 by the time we finished. But you’re stable now. We’re doing everything we can.”

Hours later, Mark finally walked in, a frown on his face. He looked irritated, not concerned.

“Where were you?” I asked, tears in my eyes.

He rolled his eyes, exasperation clear in his voice. “I told you I was getting lunch and gas. How was I supposed to know you’d have complications?”

“You were supposed to stay,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “You promised.”

Mark threw his hands up in frustration. “Look, I took care of you last night when we got home. What more do you want from me?”

I felt a wave of anger and sadness. “I needed you, Mark. I could have died.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re being dramatic. The surgery was supposed to be simple.”

I couldn’t believe his words. The man who usually cared so much seemed to have vanished. I felt vulnerable and unsupported, like I didn’t matter to him anymore.

As Mark left the room after our argument, I lay there, wondering what had happened to the man I married. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts and fears. The nurses continued to check on me, their kind faces a small comfort in the midst of my pain and confusion.

One nurse, Sarah, sat by my side, holding my hand. “You’re going to be okay, Emily. We’re here for you.”

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. “Thank you. I just… I don’t understand why he left.”

Sarah squeezed my hand gently. “Sometimes people don’t handle stress well. But you need to focus on getting better now.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I know. It’s just hard.”

Sarah stayed with me until I fell asleep, her presence a balm to my wounded heart. Even as I drifted off, my thoughts lingered on Mark and the chasm that had suddenly opened between us.

The next day, Mark and I argued again. I was still weak and emotional from the surgery.

“Why can’t you just say you’re sorry?” I pleaded, my voice breaking.

Mark looked at me, his expression hard. “I’ve told you, Emily. I didn’t know anything was wrong. Stop making this a big deal.”

I felt a lump in my throat. “You weren’t there when I needed you the most. How is that not a big deal?”

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “I took care of you when we got home, didn’t I? What more do you want?”

His words stung. Mark had always been attentive and caring, but now, his coldness was a shock. Each day, his neglect became more apparent, and my disillusionment grew.

At night, I would lie awake, thinking about how attentive he used to be. He used to bring me flowers for no reason, hold my hand when we watched TV, and always made sure I was comfortable. But now, it was like I was living with a stranger.

A few days after the surgery, I was lying on the couch, still feeling weak and emotional. Mark’s phone was charging on the table next to me. Suddenly, it buzzed with a new voicemail notification. He must have forgotten to put it on silent. Out of habit, I grabbed the phone, intending to silence it, but my finger slipped, and the voicemail began to play on speaker.

“Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to say I had an amazing time with you at lunch yesterday. I can’t believe we finally did it. I hope she’s recovering well, but I can’t wait to see you again soon. Call me when you can. Love you.“

I froze. The voicemail was from his coworker, and the timestamp on the voicemail was from the day of my surgery. My mind raced as I pieced together the events. He hadn’t just gone out to get lunch; he had been with her, ignoring my calls and the hospital’s attempts to reach him while I was fighting for my life.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t just neglectful; he was betraying me in the worst possible way. The anger and hurt swelled within me, and I knew this was the beginning of the end for us.

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. How could he do this to me? After everything we had been through together, how could he betray me like this?

I knew what I had to do. The next morning, I packed my bags. Mark watched me, his expression a mix of confusion and anger.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“I’m leaving,” I said quietly. “I can’t stay with someone who doesn’t care about me, who betrays me.”

He scoffed. “You’re overreacting, Emily. It was just lunch.”

I looked at him, tears streaming down my face. “It wasn’t just lunch, Mark. It was betrayal. And I deserve better.”

I moved out that day and filed for divorce soon after. It was the hardest decision I had ever made, but I knew it was the right one.

Starting over was tough, but I found strength in myself I never knew I had. I surrounded myself with friends and family who supported me, who helped me heal.

Reflecting on my marriage, I realized how much I had given and how little I had received in return. The journey from love and support to betrayal was painful, but it taught me valuable lessons about self-worth and resilience.

As the days passed, I began to see a future filled with hope and possibilities. I found new hobbies, made new friends, and started to rebuild my life. The emotional journey was long and difficult, but it led me to a place of strength and independence.

My Coworker Wants My Husband to Drive Her to Work While I’m on Maternity Leave — That’s Not Even the Craziest Part

Maternity leave was supposed to be a time of bonding with my newborn, but it quickly turned into a nightmare when my coworker Emily decided she was entitled to more than just a ride to work. Her audacious actions tested the limits of our patience and pushed us to confront the lengths we’d go to protect our family.

My name is Katie, and life has been a whirlwind lately. Between moving in with my husband, Mark, and preparing for our first baby, things have been busy.

Mark is my rock; he’s steady, kind, and has a bit of a people-pleaser streak. We’ve been together for a couple of years and married for about a year now. While we were excited about our growing family, the adjustments had been overwhelming at times.

Want to know what happened next? Click here to read the rest of the story.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.