I Aborted His Baby While He Praised Hers

At the law office, Emma Corsie put the finishing touches on the last signature. Her pen hovered over the empty space meant for her husband's name. "Can I sign for him?" she asked the attorney.

The lawyer adjusted his glasses with a hesitant push. "Only with his explicit consent."

Emma's fingers trembled slightly as she dialed Braydon's number. The line connected to Caitlin's saccharine voice mid-whine: "Braydon, I'm dying for those pastries from the west side..."

A knife twisted in Emma's chest, but she kept her voice steady. "I need to speak with you."

Braydon's deep voice came through, distracted. "Make it quick, Em. I'm swamped. Whatever it is, you handle it."

"So I have your permission to decide for you?"

His chuckle sounded warm, familiar. "Obviously. After all these years, haven't you always taken care of everything at home?"

"Then I'll take care of this too."

After hanging up, Emma carefully forged Braydon's signature with practiced precision.

As she gathered her things, the lawyer offered one last out: "Mrs. Lederer, the divorce won't finalize for thirty days. You can still—"

"No," she cut him off, her smile brittle. "No regrets."

This marriage was dead and buried.

The cab ride to the hospital passed in a blur.

"I'm here for an abortion," Emma told the intake nurse, her voice eerily calm.

The doctor reviewed her chart with a frown. "The fetus is completely healthy. Are you absolutely certain?"

"Positive."

The metallic clang of surgical tools made her flinch as she lay on the table. Closing her eyes, she was transported back to their beginning...

College orientation. Student council president Braydon mid-speech when their eyes met—his words evaporated like morning dew. The untouchable finance department heartthrob became a lovesick puppy overnight.

For twelve months, he pursued her relentlessly. That first winter, he stood outside her dorm all night in the snow with 999 roses. When she casually mentioned craving cake from across town during a thunderstorm, he returned soaked to the bone, box in hand.

But it was the school gala that sealed it. Mid-piano solo, a key stuck. As humiliation burned her cheeks, Braydon strode onstage and slid beside her. "Let's play together," he whispered. Their four hands finished "Dream Wedding" to roaring applause, but he only had eyes for her. "Emma, I can't imagine life without you."

He kept that promise—through dating, through marriage—until Caitlin's shadow grew between them.

"She's like a sister," he'd insist. "Her grandfather saved mine. We owe her family."

Emma believed him. Until the compromises piled up:

Her birthday—Northern Lights trip canceled because Caitlin had the sniffles. Their anniversary—romantic evening abandoned when Caitlin feared thunder. Even with a 103° fever, Emma watched social media updates of Braydon and Caitlin laughing on a Ferris wheel.

Now this—choosing Caitlin over their own child. Well, if that was his choice, she'd make hers.