A Divorce He Regrets Novel – My body ached in ways I couldn’t describe, and in places I couldn’t name. My skin was sticky with perspiration and my muscles were trembling from hours in labor. The feeling of motherhood – for however briefly I’d just come into it-was so surreal that I could hardly believe it.
Despite having nine long months to prepare my mind, nothing could have truly prepared me for the actual feeling. ‘I’m a mother now,’ I thought, though my heart still hurt as I lay in the hospital b*d, gazing at what could possibly be my greatest fulfillment as a woman. My newborn twins. My heart filled with joy and pride as I watched them – my beautiful boy and girl swaddled beside me – but the feeling was almost completely eclipsed by a gnawing sense of unease-one I had become all too acquainted with over the years.
Despite the air conditioner, the sterile room still felt… stifling. But the coldest presence loomed over me with his broad shoulders and cruelly handsome, emotionless face. My husband. He just stood there, regarding me as if I were something to be discarded. Maybe I was. I mean, I had just delivered our babies, our future, and he couldn’t even offer a smile. No words of comfort. No, “I’m proud of you.” How I yearned to hear even just that.
I held my breath, waiting for something- anything – to break the silence, but what came next was the last thing I expected. When he moved, it wasn’t to cradle our children or to brush a tender hand against my hair. Instead, he wordlessly tossed a stack of papers onto my lap. “Sign them.” He ordered, cold and detached.
His words took a moment to register. I blinked- my eyes still hazy from the exhaustion of pushing two little humans out of me. Sign what? I looked down at the papers, then back at him in confusion. “I’m sorry, what-”