The Rat In Shadows: His Downfall

Gavin

Modern | Completed

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I endured 121 needle marks on my stomach for the child my husband, Braden, and I desperately wanted. But as I lay on the procedure table, moments from our embryo transfer, he walked out. He left me for his high school sweetheart, Isabella, who was hysterical over her son's scraped knee. He paraded her around in public "family" photos while his own family shamed me at dinner for being too "stiff." When Isabella's son shoved me to the floor, Braden rushed to comfort the boy, not me. He looked at me with pure disgust. "How can you possibly think you'd be a good mother when you behave like this?" he spat. I looked him dead in the eye, my voice shaking but clear. "The funniest part is, Braden? I canceled the embryo transfer." Then, in front of his entire family, I said, "I want a divorce. And this time, I'm not kidding."

Betrayal Divorce Revenge Divorce Personal growth

Chapter 13

11-14 10:06

Chapter 1

I endured 121 needle marks on my stomach for the child my husband, Braden, and I desperately wanted.

But as I lay on the procedure table, moments from our embryo transfer, he walked out. He left me for his high school sweetheart, Isabella, who was hysterical over her son's scraped knee.

He paraded her around in public "family" photos while his own family shamed me at dinner for being too "stiff."

When Isabella's son shoved me to the floor, Braden rushed to comfort the boy, not me.

He looked at me with pure disgust.

"How can you possibly think you'd be a good mother when you behave like this?" he spat.

I looked him dead in the eye, my voice shaking but clear. "The funniest part is, Braden? I canceled the embryo transfer."

Then, in front of his entire family, I said, "I want a divorce. And this time, I'm not kidding."

Chapter 1

Clementine POV:

The IVF nurse' s voice was a soft hum in the background. My husband, Braden, was supposed to be holding my hand, but he was across the room, staring at his phone. His face was pinched, his jaw tight. It was a look I knew too well, a mirror of every time Isabella Coleman, his high school sweetheart, had managed to worm her way back into our perfect life.

We had just signed the final consent forms. The ink was barely dry on the paper that promised us a chance at a family, a chance at the child we had both claimed to desperately want. A heavy weight had lifted from my chest, replaced by a fragile, soaring hope. But Braden didn't share that feeling. He barely looked at me.

"I have to go," he said, his voice flat. He didn't even look up from his phone when he said it.

My stomach dropped. I was already lying on the procedure table, my legs in stirrups, the sterile sheet draped over me. My body was prepped, my mind a hazy mix of anticipation and the mild sedative they'd given me. It made his words feel distant, unreal.

"Isabella's son fell at the park," he mumbled, finally glancing at me, then quickly back at the phone. "Minor injury, she said. But she's hysterical."

The nurse, a kind woman named Sarah, gave Braden a look that could curdle milk. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. She didn't say anything, but her eyes screamed volumes.

"Dr. Bennett," Sarah said, her voice stern, cutting through the haze of my sedation. "Your wife needs you here. This is a crucial procedure, and she'll need your support and assistance post-transfer. We've talked about the importance of rest and minimizing stress."

Braden ignored her, his thumb already poised over the screen as another text came through. The sharp chime of his phone rang out in the quiet room, making me jump. He looked up at me, a flicker of something that might have been apology in his eyes, but his face was white, stretched taut with an anxiety that wasn't for me.

My mind was a fog, but a bitter thought sliced through it. Was this really about Isabella's son, or was it the drama of Isabella herself? Was he genuinely concerned, or was he just addicted to being her savior?

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, his voice rushed, already backing towards the door. "Don't worry. Just... do what you need to do. I'll call you."

He was gone before I could even nod. The door clicked shut, leaving me with the sympathetic gaze of the nurse and the cold reality of his absence.

"Dr. Bennett," the embryologist said, her voice calm and professional, "we're ready to proceed with the transfer. We have two excellent embryos, as discussed." She held up a small, shimmering scope, showing me the tiny, hopeful dots.

My breath hitched. Two embryos. The culmination of months of injections, scans, tears, and forced smiles. The promise of a future.

But Braden wasn't here. He wasn't just late. He had left. For Isabella. Again.

The sedative suddenly wore off, replaced by a jolt of ice-cold clarity. My body, which had been a vessel of hope just moments before, now felt like a battlefield. My abdomen was bloated from the hormones, my arms bruised from the endless blood draws. Every inch of me was a testament to the sacrifices I had made, the pain I had endured, all for a future Braden had just walked away from.

"Stop," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

The embryologist paused, her hand hovering over the delicate instruments. "Dr. Bennett?"

"I said, stop the procedure," I repeated, louder this time, the words feeling foreign, yet utterly right.

Sarah, the nurse, rushed to my side. Her eyes were wide with shock. "Clementine, are you sure? We have the embryos ready. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You've worked so hard for this."

"It's not a game," the embryologist added, her voice soft but firm. "We rarely get such high-quality embryos. Don't let a moment of upset derail everything you've aimed for."

I looked at them, at their kind, bewildered faces. "It's my body," I said, my voice steady, despite the tremor in my hands. "I have the right to cancel."

My mind replayed the endless shots, the painful retrievals, the constant nausea. It wasn't just a clinical process; it was a physical and emotional marathon. One hundred and twenty-one needle marks on my stomach, each one a silent prayer, a quiet sacrifice. My entire being was screaming for a child, but not like this. Not with a husband who couldn't even stay for the most important moment of our shared dream.

Deep down, I knew. This wasn't a sudden fit of anger. This was a realization, sharp and undeniable. I couldn' t bring a child into a marriage that was already crumbling, into a life where I was clearly second best. This wasn't about the embryos anymore. It was about me.

My gaze drifted to the empty chair where Braden should have been sitting. Now, my thoughts were a tangled mess, a whirlwind of resentment and a strange, liberating resolve. The dream of a child, which had consumed me for so long, felt strangely distant. All I could focus on was the emptiness in the room. And the emptiness in my heart.

The embryologist sighed, a sound heavy with disappointment. "Very well, Dr. Bennett. As you wish." She began to carefully pack away the instruments, the shimmering scope with the tiny, hopeful dots now covered. The silence in the room was deafening, a stark contrast to the frantic chaos that had just unfolded. The dream was over, at least for today. And maybe, just maybe, for good.

The quiet click of the door as I left the clinic felt like the closing of a chapter, not just for the IVF, but for something much larger.