For 12 years, I’d trusted my husband with my heart. Then a pregnant patient walked into my office and demanded I divorce him. That night, I found messages on his phone that changed everything. But the call I made next revealed something far worse than an affair.
Roy and I had been married for twelve years. We worked at the same hospital—he was chief surgeon, and I ran my gynecology practice two floors below.
He still brought me coffee before early shifts and kissed my forehead at night. Our marriage wasn’t perfect, but I’d never had a reason to doubt him.
Until Tuesday.
My last patient was a young woman named Tessa, visibly pregnant and wearing a smug smile.
“You’re Vanessa, Roy’s wife?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’m pregnant with your husband’s baby. You need to divorce him.”
I stared at her, stunned.
“How long have you been seeing Roy?”“Long enough to know he doesn’t love you anymore.”
